


The Last Seduction

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-11
Updated: 2006-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-25 21:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16668229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: He was seduced by her a long time ago but never knew it. Sequel to "Thirty Candles" which can be found at ff.net.





	The Last Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Importing this story as the archive where it's been is closing. It was written years ago but is now preserved for any KIBBS fans still out there.

[Read "Thirty Candles" first](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3231599/1/Thirty-Candles)

 

She cannot imagine a more perfect day.  
  
She feels utterly drained and exhausted. Her limbs ache dully and her shoulders burn with the remnants of too much sun. Her skin is damp with a mixture of sweat and seawater and her hair is tangled and windblown. As she rests her forehead against the car window, watching the street lights flick past, her eyelids droop with something akin to jetlag.  
  
And yet, she has never felt so happy or so content.  
  
If this is what it's like to be thirty, Kate thinks, she doesn't know what she was so anxious about. If today is any indication, it's going to be one amazing year. Perhaps all the articles in the magazines are correct and her thirties will truly be the best time of her life.  
  
Or perhaps she is just on a Jethro Gibbs high.  
  
She snuggles under the light blanket that Gibbs found on his backseat and glances across at his face dimly lit by the glowing dashboard.  
  
The previous night, she'd crawled into bed drunk, miserable and lonely. She'd played over in her mind the implausible scene of dancing so intimately with her imposing boss. But as her eyes welled with shameless tears, she forced him from her mind, lulling herself to sleep in the ersatz comfort of her own arms wrapped tightly about her unhappy body.  
  
She had never expected the knock on her door that came the following morning or the surprise her boss had sprung on her for her thirtieth birthday. She'd been entirely incapable of hiding or suppressing her glee.  
  
She felt so incredibly touched by his uncommon idea of a birthday gift, overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture. It showed more than just taste and time and esteem. It seemed to hint at something far more profound.  
  
When they hit the ocean, her face held high against the beckoning wind and her skin embracing the early morning rays, her heart was soaring with hope and expectation.  
  
She'd been utterly high on emotion all day, in fact. The idea of spending a full day out at sea with her normally distant boss had her feeling consistently woozy, silly, scattered, lustful, excited, impulsive.  
  
But Gibbs was not her boss today, she'd reminded herself. In fact, there was very little present of their usual, professional dynamic.  
  
He was eager to share his love and knowledge of boats with her, teach her the basics of sailing. Kate was more than happy to listen, studying his large hands and strong arms tugging at the tackle and manipulating the sails into proper order. And she was equally eager to learn, pulling at the ropes he told her to and helping him hoist the sails into the receiving wind.  
  
Although the concept still sat in the back of her not fully functioning brain, she honestly had not harbored any serious intention to seduce her boss on their impromptu voyage. But they did share three more kisses on board the _May December_ .  
  
Considering they were out on the ocean, alone, for over eight hours, she thinks really she showed remarkable restraint. The moments arose naturally, spontaneously -- and Kate found that she just could not let them pass. She simply couldn't help herself -- not that she tried too hard to resist.  
  
Gibbs had looked gorgeous, in his beloved element. With the sapphire sea surrounding him and the wind ruffling his hair, he looked so damn edible, so damn male, so damn good. She'd eyed him shyly in his jeans and simple, short-sleeved white shirt, unbuttoned an extra inch to expose a hint of tanned skin and silver chest hair. Something told her that he wouldn't exactly resist her advances.  
  
Something deep and obscure had altered the night before. The little spark that neither had fostered but both were aware of since they first met had erupted into an open and insatiate fire. And once alight, it couldn't be dampened again. For once, she and Gibbs weren't shying away from each other; they weren't ignoring or destroying their obvious attraction.  
  
Their first kiss aboard the _May December_ arose when Gibbs offered her control of the craft. They'd been sailing for a while mostly in silence, an easy wind pushing them over the sparkling waves while a few other boats skirted around the horizon.  
  
He beckoned her and Kate immediately obeyed, stepping closer as Gibbs moved aside. She sat down, between him and the long limb of the tiller, feeling his arm curl about her back and his hand settle beside hers to help her steer. He shifted closer, the material of his jeans brushing her bare leg as he began murmuring in her ear about wind and velocity and current.  
  
All she could focus on, though, was his nearness. She'd turned her head to look up at him, tracing with rapt eyes the strong line of his jaw, the sharp slant of his nose and his speaking lips as he gazed out over the nose of the vessel.  
  
After a moment, realizing that she wasn't listening, he turned and looked down at her, strangely amused, faintly bemused.  
  
"Concentrate," he ordered quietly.  
  
"I am," she insisted softly, her mouth turning up in a slightly wicked grin.  
  
"On steering," Gibbs clarified, his hand picking up hers from where it had unconsciously dropped and placing both of them back on the tiller.  
  
The action did nothing for her concentration at all. Gibbs turned back to watching their course and tried to resume his instruction but he couldn't ignore the way she was looking at him with a meditative little smile on her face.  
  
"Kate…" he sighed impatiently, turning back to her.  
  
But as soon as their eyes met, his words stopped. She could feel her eyes glowing with warmth and her heart thumping with excitement. It was so sinfully easy to just tip her head back in complete and utter mindless surrender and let her lips fall into his.  
  
Gibbs parted his lips slightly to meet her and time seemed to suspend for a moment as their mouths slid over one another, tugging and tasting and savoring. She reached up with one hand to caress the jaw she'd been admiring, her fingers drifting slowly, lightly up and down the stubble and skin. She couldn't help a little whimper as Gibbs' teeth scraped over her bottom lip, then his tongue whipped out to smooth over the same spot.  
  
They drew apart, knowing that what they were exploring was only the tip of an enormous, mysterious, intimate iceberg. He shot her another inscrutable look, his eyes scanning her face momentarily before they both turned back to steering the boat.  
  
The second opportunity to get closer to Gibbs arose when they stopped for lunch. The sun was high and hot when Gibbs threw the anchor down and she pulled out their lunch. The man had even managed to find and pack her favorite sandwich and iced tea.  
  
They sat on the ship's bow, side by side, legs dangling overboard, as they gazed out at the beautiful landscape. Each holding a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of drink between their legs, they munched and chatted, broaching only fairly general and safe topics.  
  
During a lull in the conversation, Kate had glanced over at her unlikely birthday companion. Slipping her sunglasses up onto her head, she noticed a dollop of mustard lingering around the corner of Gibbs' mouth.  
  
She smiled and reached out, wiping it off with her thumb. Gibbs turned to look at her; then, without looking away, swiped the back of his hand over his whole mouth and gave her a childish grin.  
  
She grinned back and leaned in, capturing his lips with her own and giving him several quick, affectionate, slurpy kisses. She kept her eyes open, squinting through the glare of the sunlight as she watched his eyes close and his mouth grin, kissing her back.  
  
When she pulled away, Gibbs sighed lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear then taking another big bite of his sandwich. Refusing to destroy a gorgeous day or their enjoyable behavior with endless second-guessing or internal disapprobation, Kate simply drew her sunglasses back over her eyes and turned back to the view.  
  
In the dark car, she rolls onto her other side, curling her legs beneath her and resting her head on the curve of the seat, her face turned towards Gibbs. She knows he's not watching and that, even if he were, it's too dark for him to see the blush on her cheeks. But somehow, she fears he will know in that bizarre way he has, exactly what she is thinking of.  
  
The last kiss that they shared was the most memorable. The first two times that she kissed him -- while he certainly didn't resist – Gibbs' response had been slightly hesitant, restrained, even puzzled.  
  
By mid-afternoon, he was thoroughly relaxed. Warmed by the sun and her previous offerings, he lay dozing, stretched comfortably on the starboard bench, with legs crossed at the ankles and her white captain's hat sitting over his face. Only his mouth was visible from beneath the brim, turned upwards in a sleepy, contented smirk. His chest rose and fell, his breathing deep and rhythmic as they floated idly, anchored on the rippling water, the white sails flapping overhead.  
  
Rising from where she'd been sitting, deep in thought, Kate had tiptoed closer and leant over him, coveting that idiosyncratic smirk more than ever. One hand braced her against the edge of the boat as she peered down at him. She smiled softly, her eyes drifting over him-- then slowly she lowered her lips until they hovered over his. Taking a silent breath, she moved in, touching down gently and tugging at his lips once with a sweet, gentle urgency.  
  
As she slowly withdrew, a large hand rose to pull her down again and all of a sudden, Gibbs began to reciprocate with all the passion she'd suspected he'd been denying and withholding all day. He pushed her lips apart, tasting her with his tongue and groaning deeply. Pulling her closer, she fell to her knees, kneeling beside the bench where he lay and draping herself over his chest.  
  
One small, daring hand slipped inside the opening of his shirt, roving over the muscular contours of his chest as she kissed him with everything she had. He turned towards her, one hand cupping her head and the other clasped about her waist, keeping her close as the cap fell from his face to the deck.  
  
Curled up beside Gibbs in his car, Kate nearly groans aloud at the memory.  
  
The sun has disappeared entirely now, taking with it all the warmth of the day. It feels like they've been gone for days, weeks; a lifetime. She could have spent forever out there on the open waters with him. Morning seems like an aeon ago and already she dreads Monday morning when she will have to forget all about the peace and bliss and fun that they have experienced together today.  
  
She wishes it didn't have to end. She wishes she didn't have this dinner to go to. She is trying to enjoy the last few moments she has with Gibbs, while still hoping that he might choose to come with her.  
  
She'd suggested it as they headed back to the coast. Somehow, she thought it important to ask before they were ashore again. She's not entirely sure that he won't dismiss what happened between them on the high seas as a anomalous event, just a bit of meaningless flirting, a rare indulgence for both of them. She's not at all sure that the rules on land are as free as they were at sea.  
  
"Gibbs," she'd spoken up hesitantly, shivering in the cooling wind: "This dinner tonight is very casual. Just a few friends, my sister's in town with her husband. No big deal…" she added, attempting to sound nonchalant: "but you're welcome to come."  
  
Gibbs looked over at her in the deepening sunset light, his blue eyes fixed on her intently. And she knew there was no point in trying to hide or pretend. She stood and moved closer, sitting beside him and gazing out at the disappearing horizon for a moment. Then she turned to him, looking him in the eye.  
  
"I'd love you to come," she amended softly.  
  
Gibbs smiled slightly, but didn't respond. He just nodded ambiguously, which she took to mean he'd consider the idea.  
  
She doesn't want to even think about the dinner right now. She doesn't feel like dressing up and going out. She is not even excited about seeing her friends or sister. The car is warm and quiet and she is content to just admire Gibbs' hands as he drives.  
  
The only thing that could make her happier right now is a soft bed or a hot bath. Preferably with his big body curled up against her.  
  
She smiles to herself and hums quietly at the inviting image. But her imaginary contentment evaporates when she starts to recognize the streets and signposts of her own neighborhood. Shutting her eyes, she burrows deeper into her warm cocoon, wishing to remain in her fantasy world a little longer.  
  
Sooner than she wants, however, the car pulls up and the engine dies. She feels Gibbs turn to her, assuming she is asleep. He lets out a breath and sweeps a stray lock of hair off her face.  
  
She opens her eyes, catching his thoughtful expression before he has a chance to mask it. She gazes up at him, silent and content, as he shifts in his seat and points down the street at her building.  
  
"Home," he murmurs, glancing back at her: "safe and sound."  
  
She smiles back but doesn't move. He's gonna have to kick her butt out of this car, she thinks stubbornly. Maybe if she's really lucky, he'll actually carry her inside.  
  
"Tired?" he asks, quietly amused.  
  
She nods and groans low in her throat: "In a good way," she sighs, stretching her limbs a little beneath the blanket. She drops her eyes and mumbles: "I wish I didn't have this thing to go to…"  
  
"You know," he muses, staring out the front window: "I might tag along tonight."  
  
He turns to look at her, eyebrows raised questioningly, waiting for her to raise any objections. Her own brows rise sleepily in surprised response. If he's expecting any resistance on her part, he is going to be sorely disappointed.  
  
She just nods and replies lightly: "Okay."  
  
"I'll, ah…" he shrugs and jabs a thumb at the boat on the trailer behind them: "I'll just lock up her ladyship, change my shirt and I'll be back to pick you up in--" he glances at the clock on the dashboard: "an hour?"  
  
"Alright," she nods, suddenly not so sleepy or sad.  
  
This is a very unexpected turn of events. She opens her door and slips out of the car, shivering as she unwraps herself and leaves the blanket on the passenger seat. He lifts her bag off the back seat and hands it across to her, their fingers brushing slightly. She flicks her eyes back to his, one hand on the car door and the other pulling her bag up over her shoulder.  
  
"Thanks for today, Gibbs," she smiles, unable to fully communicate what his birthday gift has meant to her: "It was… beautiful and … perfect."  
  
"Good," nods Gibbs shortly then starts the engine again. "One hour," he tells her, hands already spinning the wheel.  
  
She nods in response, slamming the door and watching him drive away with the _May December_ in tow. Then, she dashes up the sidewalk to her building, a high-pitched giggle escaping her as she takes the stairs two at a time and crashes through the front door, her heart fluttering with expectation.

* * *

  
When she hears Gibbs knock at her door exactly an hour later, she is not ready. She is on her hands and knees, scrounging around her wardrobe for a lost shoe. She groans in frustration, getting to her feet and nearly tripping over her long, satin robe.  
  
Since the minute she'd flown back in the door, still high on Jethro Gibbs, everything had gone wrong. She showered quickly, washing from her body the residual sea spray.  
  
But then, a large stain had somehow materialized on the hem of the new dress she'd planned to wear; forcing her to chose another one. She couldn't find the shoes she wanted to wear, remembering suddenly that Abby had borrowed them for her latest court appearance.  
  
She dropped an earring down the bathroom drain, poked her eye with mascara and ripped two nails, trying to hastily yank the price tags off some lavish underwear, which finally she had half an excuse to wear.  
  
Meanwhile, the phone had been ringing every five minutes with friends and family wanting to wish her a happy birthday and recap the past thirty years of her life. After a polite interval of chatting with each, she had to excuse herself and tell them she had a celebratory dinner to attend.  
  
She'd just gotten off the phone with her great aunt who, while she was ferreting around her wardrobe for a decent pair of evening shoes, was supplying her with the stats on a handsome, young doctor that she'd recently met while in hospital.  
  
Kate refrained for as long as she could, before blurting out that, in fact, a tall, strong, gorgeous man was picking her up that very night to take her to her birthday dinner.  
  
As she rushes to answer the tall, strong and gorgeous man knocking at her door, Kate catches her harried reflection in the hall mirror and realizes she still has curlers in her hair. She rolls her eyes, hearing Gibbs knock again, somewhat impatiently.  
  
She really hadn't expected him to be back on time – he must have broken every road rule in the book in order to make it. Not that that should surprise her.  
  
"Coming!" she calls, continuing down the hallway.  
  
She'd wanted to look absolutely perfect for this. By the time he returned, she'd wanted to look her very best for him. After all, this was a date with Jethro Gibbs -- at least, she thinks it's a date. She's not really sure. She hasn't had time to mull it over. All she knows is -- this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Her gut is vibrating, her head is spinning, her heart is humming.  
  
Checking that her robe is not gaping anywhere, she pulls open the door to see Gibbs standing on her threshold, clean-shaven and well groomed. As promised, he has changed the white shirt he was wearing during the day to a fresh, crisp, black one.  
  
His hair is brushed back neatly and his face shows the aftereffects of the sun they both received today. The effect is striking and her eyes linger a little too long over him.  
  
"You're not dressed," he points out, blankly, stepping inside.  
  
Kate shakes herself. "I'll only take a minute, I promise…" she mumbles, closing the door and trying to scuttle away before he gets a good look at her.  
  
But Gibbs grabs her arm, pulling her back to face him as he examines the colored, velcro rollers in her hair. She hates the things but she had to do something to tame the mess that the sea wind had made of her.  
  
He stares at her incredulously. "You look like an alien," he tells her matter-of-factly.  
  
"Thank you, Gibbs," she mutters sarcastically, rolling her eyes and turning to leave again.  
  
His grip on her arm increases, tugging her back again and, this time, even closer. She finds herself in his arms, her chest brushing his as his arms loosely encircle her waist. Her hands land on his arms without permission and she gazes up at him in surprise.  
  
"Oka-ay," he amends, dipping his head and meeting her eyes: "…a very cute alien."  
  
She smiles a little, her heart jumping into her throat. It feels incredible to be held so close to him, to feel his body through just a thin layer of clothing. But she cannot play a love scene with the man she has adored for years while she looks and feels like a clown.  
  
Gibbs still has a mystified expression on his face as he reverts to studying her head full of rollers. "What the hell are those things?" he asks, poking a finger at one.  
  
She purses her lips and bats his hand away. "They make me pretty," she retorts, attempting to free herself from his hold.  
  
"No, they don't," he replies flatly, just as she succeeds in slipping out of his arms.  
  
With her back to him, she falters momentarily, her eyes dropping to the floor. She feels her heart sink a little and her vanity smash into tiny pieces at her feet. She's relieved that he can't see her face fall.  
  
She'd wanted to look perfect for him. She'd wanted Gibbs' eyes to light up with admiration and desire. She'd wanted to feel beautiful in his eyes. And -- she admits it -- curlers or not, she wants her boss to think she's pretty.  
  
"I'll just, ah…" she mumbles fadedly, without looking back at him: "I won't take long."  
  
She starts to move away again, heading for her bedroom, but is surprised when Gibbs' hands land tentatively on her shoulders. He gently draws her backwards and she feels him sidle up close behind her. His heat and his bulk are electrifying against her back and his breath brushes her neck as he leans down to whisper in her ear.  
  
"I don't think that these weird little things," he tells her slowly and she can feel his eyes roving up over her trapped hair: "…have anything to do with it," he finishes, his lips brushing against her ear.  
  
She feels his gaze wander down the side of her face, tracing her neck and plunging into her cleavage. Her eyes slip closed and she sways lightly on her feet. They stand locked in position for a moment, both enjoying the current that passes between their enraptured bodies.  
  
Then, she feels Gibbs move, his head lowering and his lips hovering over her flushed skin. With her hair up in the rollers, her neck and shoulder tingle with vulnerability and sensitivity. Each millimeter longs for his attention.  
  
He chooses the perfect spot, laying a soft, wet, open-mouthed kiss on the back of her neck, just left of her spine. She whimpers softly, feeling her head loll and her knees weaken.  
  
"Hmm… Very…" he murmurs softly, his fingers brushing aside a few stray wisps at the nape of her neck. He presses closer to her from behind, his voice distant: "…very…" He leans in and deposits another hot kiss, a little longer, a little lower, right on the spot where her neck becomes her shoulder: "…very pretty," he finishes in a raspy voice.  
  
She swallows her burgeoning arousal and her heart rate picks up exponentially. She hasn't felt this excited in years. Truthfully, she's not sure that she's ever experienced this level of excitement. She's not sure what do to with herself.  
  
She's not sure whether to stand still and see how far Gibbs takes this. Or whether to turn in his arms and reciprocate with a few carefully placed kisses of her own.  
  
A part of her still wants to rush to her room and finish getting ready so that she doesn't feel quite so vulnerable. While another much stronger part just wants to rip that black shirt off his body and guide him to her bed.  
  
"Kate…?" Gibbs murmurs in her ear, after a long moment.  
  
"Hmmm?" she sighs, opening her eyes dreamily and beginning to float back to earth.  
  
He runs the back of a finger down the side of her neck very slowly, watching its progress with rapt eyes: "I think you should get dressed," he tells her, still in that quiet, seductive tone.  
  
"Hm?" she questions vaguely, turning and gazing up at him from over her shoulder.  
  
One corner of his mouth lifts as his eyes drop to trace her parted lips. His hands smooth from her shoulders down her arms to her elbows and slowly, back again. The heat of his palms makes her feel like she is melting from within.  
  
"We'll be late for your dinner," he reminds her, shifting on his feet and withdrawing slightly.  
  
She nods dumbly then heads towards her bedroom, her body still thrumming with sensation. As she faces the mirror in her bedroom and absently pulls the rollers out of her hair, arranging the curls in a carefully mussed style, her usual clarity and sense begins to return.  
  
Perhaps it is time to up the stakes, she thinks to herself. Initially, her efforts at seducing her boss were undecided and unfocused. Actually, she had been a little concerned about scaring him off.  
  
She knew when it came to personal matters and particularly matters of the heart, Gibbs was cautious, insecure and somewhat inept. Her secret desire had had a long time to percolate and her younger heart was strong and whole and full, waiting for him.  
  
But now, Gibbs seemed to be not just following her lead, but plotting a seduction of his own. The very thought flooded her with passion and confidence, trepidation and abandon. It was time to meet him halfway and see how far they wanted to take this.  
  
Finishing with her hair, she leans in to double check her makeup, running one finger beneath the pout of her bottom lip, liberally painted and glossed. Then giving herself a quick spray of perfume, she strides over to her bed where her dress is laid out. Shucking off her robe and throwing it over the bedspread, she slips the red material over her head, pulls it into place and fastens the zipper.  
  
Hastily, she peers under the bed for her still missing shoe while simultaneously putting on the one she has found and adjusting the straps. She only wore them last night, she sulks, hopping around her room and trying to locate its pair, it's got to be somewhere close.  
  
Turning around, she notices Gibbs standing in the doorway. He raps on the frame uncertainly, giving her a deliberate once over with his blue eyes as she stands amid the chaos of her room, strewn with clothes and lingerie and footwear. She has no idea how long he'd been standing there, or whether he'd just arrived, but an embarrassed flush rises to her cheeks.  
  
"Thought you might need this…" he murmurs, holding up her fugitive shoe: "Didn't mean to…" he waves his hand once, indicating his accidental intrusion.  
  
"Oh, um…" she shakes her head, looking at the carpet as she hobbles over to him. "…thanks," she says softly, taking the shoe from his hand and making a mental note to close her bedroom door in the future when there are gorgeous men wandering around her apartment.  
  
She puts a hand on Gibbs' arm, balancing herself as she slips the other shoe onto her foot. His hand reaches out to grasp her elbow to help her balance. She straightens, lowering her foot to the floor and flicking her hair out of her eyes.  
  
She stares at him for a long moment, her eyebrows furrowed and her brain repeating the same question. "How long were you standing there?" she finally asks, a little suspicious.  
  
One corner of his mouth turns slowly upwards in a wicked, smug smirk and his eyes twinkle as he leans in to kiss her, lightly. "Very -- _very_ pretty…" he murmurs roughly against her mouth, then disappears down the hallway again.  
  
Kate is left blinking and panting in her doorway. She has now had Jethro Gibbs in her bedroom. That's about as close to heaven as she may ever get – especially considering her current train of thought.  
  
It's _definitely_ time for her to up the stakes and follow through on her seduction of her boss, she muses. It is time to claim her piece of heaven on earth.  
  
As she stuffs lip-gloss and money and keys into her evening bag, she catches her flushed reflection in the mirror, her eyes glowing with determination, her mouth open with lust. Taking a calming breath, she surveys her finished appearance momentarily, smoothing her hands down over her hips and straightening her shoulders.  
  
Jethro Gibbs won't know what hit him, she promises herself. The man has no idea how much trouble he's in. And, possibly-- she adds nervously as she breezes out the door -- _neither does she_ .

* * *

  
Kate's hand is on his leg and it's driving him crazy. Actually, she's been driving him crazy all night. He's not sure how much more of it he can stand. She's gonna kill him if she keeps this up.  
  
First, it was the dancing. Just one dance, she'd said, as a birthday treat. He'd tried to refuse, but truthfully, Gibbs liked to dance. There was something so simple and sensual about holding a beautiful woman in a slow dance -- hands and hips and breaths and heartbeats in sync.  
  
What was not to like? It was basically foreplay with clothes on. And Gibbs liked foreplay -- especially these days when play of any kind was an extreme rarity for him.  
  
And this had been Katie Todd asking him to dance, Katie Todd in his arms, pressed against his chest, moving with his body. Resistance was futile. She'd been a juicy little temptation parading around his office and the back of his ravenous mind for years.  
  
He'd spent much of that time secretly tracing and memorizing her delicate curves and finest features. He even had favorites -- like the little nook where her ass turned into her thigh. Or the inviting dip between her breasts – that was an obvious one.  
  
He'd actually spent hours contemplating the freckle on her neck. It drove him nuts just thinking about it, wondering what it might taste like.  
  
At first, he pondered whether the little mark on her pale flesh was actually a freckle or a mole. But a mole just sounded unattractive. And there was nothing about Katie Todd that Gibbs found unattractive.  
  
Nevertheless, the morning after their strangely unsettling and intensely thrilling dance together he was still telling himself that they could keep things on a professional and amicable basis. He'd planned the surprise for her birthday, still believing that they were just coworkers socializing for a day.  
  
That notion lasted until about two seconds after she opened the door. There was something about a woman in pajamas that bewitched Gibbs. There was something about Katie Todd with bedhead that rendered him stupid.  
  
She was usually so professional, so orderly and impeccable. It never ceased to thrill him to see her hair all mussed and askew. Any innocent or impersonal thoughts he had left lingering in his sex-starved brain went flying out the window when she threw herself into his arms, in her soft flannel pjs.  
  
That's when she started with the kissing. That first little touch in her apartment; then the three she planted on him while they were on the boat. Nothing had ever tested his self-control more. He could spend an eternity discovering her mouth.  
  
Those kisses -- those three indescribable, incredible, seductive kisses. The first, languid and breathy. The second, sweet and warm. And the last, impassioned and hungry and utterly uncontrollable.  
  
That third kiss, he knows, is going to become a cherished fantasy for him from now on. His Captain Katie drenched in sunlight, hair fluttering on the breeze, on a cramped boat, on glittering waves, on a gorgeous day, kissing him senseless. It's the sort of memory that keeps an old man sane and warm when he is alone and decrepit.  
  
He kissed her back. Despite his hesitancy, he couldn't help but kiss her back. He doesn't know a man alive that could've resisted her.  
  
Although, he did succeed in not throwing her to the deck or ripping off her clothes or making wild, passionate love to her. So maybe, he's stronger than he thinks.  
  
But, now she starts with the touching – all night, little strokes here and there, her hand brushing his or resting on his arm. And he knows his prized self-control is slipping and he's not sure he's going to last the night without doing at least one of those things to her. He just hopes he can wait until they are out of the restaurant.  
  
He glances across at her, scrutinizing her profile as she sits demurely in her chair and chats blithely with her buddy from the Secret Service. Meanwhile, beneath the tablecloth, her hand lazily strokes his knee.  
  
She laughs at something the other man has said, then turns to meet his steady gaze, her eyes alight with mirth and buried anticipation.  
  
They are both on edge from a full day's incessant flirtation. He can't really blame her for teasing him, he muses, as she turns back to her conversation with Ed, from her previous agency. Especially after the stunt he pulled at her apartment.  
  
Really, he would've been much safer just dropping Kate off and going home to work on his boat. He knew if he accepted her invitation to dinner, he would be accepting much more as well. He would be inviting more of her delightful little seduction games, he would be expecting more of that tantalizing pleasure that they'd indulged in while aboard the _May December_ .  
  
But he couldn't help himself. He was sick of being safe. He was sick of being alone. He was sick of self-doubt and abstinence and cynicism and regret.  
  
And there was Katie Todd curled up beside him, all sleepy and sweet and adorable, looking at him like… – he can't even put words to the way she looks at him, the way she makes him feel. In that moment, when he'd looked at her, he wanted to give her everything, protect her and hold her, and make her as happy for the rest of her life as she had been on her birthday. So, despite all the reasons not to, he'd said yes, he'd take her to the dinner.  
  
He'd driven like a maniac, cut off or pissed off half of the population of DC to make it back to her place in time. All he could think about was seeing her again, touching her again.  
  
As he drove, it occurred to him that he'd given very little back to her, shown no indication of how he felt about her. Truthfully, he wasn't really sure how he felt. He never expected, at his age, to feel something for a woman he never had before.  
  
In spite of his advanced age and marital record, whatever was developing between him and his young subordinate was nothing he'd experienced before. And knowing that threw him slightly off-balance.  
  
But he put great faith in Kate Todd. He'd recognized a quality about her from the very beginning. She was fiercely loyal, remarkably perceptive, extremely kind. And she cared for him – he'd known it for a long time.  
  
She was not out to break his heart. Even though he knows she could so easily destroy him, absolutely shatter him. But, even if she did -- which he seriously doubted -- he knew it would be completely worth it. He knew she was worth the risk.  
  
The only question left to him, was – _what the hell was he waiting for?_  
  
In his car, on his way back to her, he began to imagine what his life might be like if he allowed her in it. He wouldn't miss his old lifestyle one bit.  
  
He'd gladly trade long hours working on his boat, with late nights in her bed. He would happily exchange scotch and sawdust for sparkling eyes and quiet laughter. He would happily replace waking up every morning with a constant caffeine hangover for waking up beside that gorgeous woman and kissing her awake.  
  
In fact, nothing would make him happier than to trade utter loneliness for Katie Todd.  
  
It pleased him that she answered the door looking slightly undone, looking only partly ready. It seemed to him like a glimpse of the future he'd been imagining. He wanted to see her like this – with bedhead, or roller-hair, dressed in pajamas or robe -- or, perhaps… just a sheer bed sheet. He wanted to see the side of her that no one else did, he wanted to be the only one to witness the secret Kate Todd.  
  
She'd felt so good in his arms and he could tell that she was surprised by his bolder, more assured behavior. He couldn't help but tease her a little, enjoy the way she responded to his touch and his kiss, pay back some of the torment he'd been suffering all day.  
  
Two could play this game, he thought, and he was finally ready to join her team.  
  
In the restaurant, while the others chat about them, Kate deliberately slips her hand higher up his leg, her fingertips caressing the inside of his thigh through his pants. He sucks in a breath, leaning back in his chair.  
  
Suppressing an evil little smile, she picks up her wineglass, sipping delicately. She turns to examine him over the rim for a long moment, then returns to her conversation, entirely unconcerned by his torment.  
  
Squirming uncomfortably, he stretches his arm out over the back of her chair and looks down at her hand in his lap. It looks small against his thick leg, pale against his pants. He wonders if she's truly aware of the effect she's having on him, if she understands the intensity of just that one hand, resting on that one particular spot.  
  
He follows the line of her arm up to her shoulder, takes another long look at her lavishly tousled hair and sumptuously ruby lips and then drops his gaze down over her slender body. Kate always looks beautiful – even in a flack vest and NCIS cap, she looks beautiful.  
  
But how she looks tonight is the stuff that dreams are made of. Wicked, seductive, erotic, exhilarating dreams.  
  
Gibbs has always liked the color red. He developed a proclivity for redheaded women early on in his dating life. But after a while, he realized it was not the color itself that attracted him.  
  
He was attracted to a woman with fire, with passion, with deep power. Kate may not have the hair color to match but she has that mysterious fire that he loves, that he falls for and gets lost in.  
  
The burgundy of the dress suits her, the material hugging her sweet frame like an obsessive lover. Its fragile texture makes him want to twist his hands in the silk and see if it rips under the strain. Earlier, he got an unexpected glimpse of what she's hiding underneath.  
  
He hadn't meant to walk in while she was dressing. He supposes now that he should've cleared his throat or walked louder or called out. He really hadn't seen much though – just a glimpse of red underwear, a flash of round ass and creamy thigh, before the dress fell down to cover her body.  
  
There were appetizing little bits of her thrown all over the room, and the air smelled sweet and feminine. He'd never been in her bedroom, but he hopes to visit again very, very soon.  
  
From across the table, Kate's brother-in-law asks him a question and he returns from his trance to reply. Apart from the obvious torture, the evening has been very enjoyable. The small group is agreeable, the food impressive and the wine exceptional.  
  
Kate got a few surprised looks when she turned up with him in tow – especially from her sister. But she simply held on tight to his hand and introduced him to the table. It didn't escape his notice that she made no mention of their working relationship.  
  
They are so far from their professional territory now that to try to go back would be farcical and redundant. Not to mention disappointing. The sexual tension is so close to erupting that he'd be fool to back away now.  
  
Beneath the table, Kate's hand squeezes his thigh and he almost groans aloud. Quickly, his larger hand clamps down over hers, in a warning, while he nods weakly at whatever the others are discussing.  
  
He hides his face in his wineglass, taking a huge sip. He hopes they are not going to ask his opinion again because he's fast loosing higher brain function.  
  
Luckily, two waiters arrive with a fresh batch a food, distracting the others at their table. Kate turns to him coolly, glancing down at his hand covering hers in his lap. He leans closer to her, keeping his voice low so that the others can't hear.  
  
"Kate," he murmurs, urgently: "do you _know_ what you're _doing_ ?"  
  
She blinks languidly, then casts a quick glance about at her friends, making sure no one is paying attention to them. Leaning right into him, her warm cheek hovers next to his, her sweet perfume steals up into his nostrils and her lush mouth brushes against his ear when she answers.  
  
"Gibbs," she whispers and gives his leg another insistent squeeze: "… _I want you_."  
  
He practically jumps in his seat. She pulls back and stares at him, her eyes glittering and her lips moist. He clears his throat, glancing about them as his grip on her hand increases.  
  
"Move that hand any higher, Katie," he responds, his voice ominous and strained, his eyes flaring fervidly: "and you're gonna find out _exactly_ how much I want you."  
  
Her eyes widen and she gulps. Then, slowly, she retracts her hand and sits back in her chair, stunned and embarrassed. Her chest is rising and falling deeply, as her hands tangle together in her lap and her eyes stare unfocusedly at her plate.  
  
He studies her face, wondering if he's gone a bit too far. But what did she expect, he wonders darkly. Despite how he might sometimes come across, he was not made of steel or stone. Still, now that her unendurably sweet touch is gone, he almost wishes it back again.  
  
"Kate?" asks her sister.  
  
"Huh?" she blinks, raising her head suddenly.  
  
"More wine?" Sarah prompts.  
  
"Oh," Kate shakes her head, a nervous smile breaking out over her face: "--uh huh. No, no wine. I'm good."  
  
"Jethro?" she offers next, flashing a sly grin that tells him that she's not entirely oblivious to what is happening across the table from her. He would expect nothing less from any sibling of Kate's.  
  
"You look like you could use another drink," she purrs, shooting a look at her sister.  
  
"You're very right," he nods, pushing his glass across the table to be refilled.  
  
As he watches the red liquid pour into his glass, the hand dangling from Kate's chair moves to her bare upper arm and he starts drawing small circles on her skin with just his thumb. Picking up his wine and taking a big sip, he turns to look at her, watching an almost imperceptible shiver run down her body in response to his slight touch.  
  
Slowly, she turns back to look at him, her eyes displaying such an overpowering fusion of longing and desire and entreaty that she almost knocks the wind right out of his chest.  
  
He stares at her for a moment and everything surrounding them disappears. For the first time, he realizes that his Katie wants this just as much as he does. She may even have wanted this for as long as he has and has been in just as much pain over their secret pattern of denial and fear.  
  
He never meant to be the chief arsonist, but, bit by bit, everything today has incinerated that prolonged and exhaustive pattern. It's now a mere vapor lingering in the fiery air that envelops them. Somehow, all of a sudden, they are both free of its suffocating restriction.  
  
He smiles at her cautiously, feeling relief wash over his frame like a crashing wave. Then he scoots back and stands up from his chair. He's got to see her for a moment, they've got a few very important points to settle.  
  
He's determined to wipe that desperate look off her face and assure her that tonight, as far as he's concerned, neither of them will be going to bed alone.  
  
"Excuse me, everyone," he murmurs politely, standing behind his chair and addressing the table: "I think I just saw someone I know."  
  
He gives Kate a pointed look as he tucks in the chair and heads in the direction of some total stranger, hoping that she will understand what he's doing. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he quickly rounds the corner, spotting a little nook near the bathrooms that's shrouded by pot pants and a tall screen. Making sure that no one's looking, he ducks behind the screen and waits to see if Kate will follow his lead.  
  
Letting out a big breath, he stalks back and forth in the little alcove, rolling his shoulders a few times and feeling some of his body's tension dissipate. He adjusts his jeans, which were fast becoming too tight for comfort and peers between the leaves for any sign of Kate.  
  
The light doesn't reach far into the corner, so a minute later, when she walks by, searching for him in the other direction, she doesn't see him, lurking in the shrubbery. He puts out a hand, yanking her into his little sanctuary and she stumbles slightly, her shoulder brushing his chest.  
  
"What are you doing?" she hisses, gaping up at him, surprised and confused.  
  
"What are _you_ doing?" he counters, glowering down at her: "You're killin' me out there."  
  
She smiles, ever so slightly smug. "I thought it was obvious what I was doing, Gibbs," she murmurs, lowering her eyes. She reaches out, tentatively slipping her arms around his body and shifting in closer. "….I'm trying to seduce you," she whispers candidly, staring up at him with her deep, coffee eyes.  
  
His mouth tugs upwards at the edges as he regards her intently for a moment. "You've been doing that for years," he murmurs, lightly stroking her cheek with one finger: "What makes tonight any different?"  
  
"Well, I guess…" she muses, biting her lip nervously and letting her gaze sweep over his chest: "tonight," she tells him softly: "I'm actually trying to."  
  
He hums slightly, sliding his hands down around her waist and drawing her into him more fully: "You're doing a damn fine job of it," he rumbles warmly.  
  
"Well, thank you," she sighs, smiling in relief and smoothing her hands up his back: "I'm glad you approve…."  
  
"Oh, I approve…" he mutters, ducking his head to capture her lips: "I really… _really_ approve."  
  
Their mouths melt and meld again as the overpowering heat they share explodes once more. Every time he kisses her is more exciting. Every time, a little more passion, a little more heat and little more feeling seeps out of him and into her.  
  
He backs up a little and lets his body fall back against the wall. He feels Kate follow, stepping forward between his legs, not allowing their mouths to disengage. She brings her hands up to his face, switching angles and tugging at his lips hungrily with her own.  
  
A moan escapes her throat as he sucks on her lower lip and boldly moves his hands down to cup her ass through the slippery silk. He squeezes and she gasps, breaking away and opening her eyes to look at him.  
  
"Kate…" he murmurs in dazed agony.  
  
"Yeah…?" she replies, her eyes focused on his mouth.  
  
She has that druggy look again that he beheld earlier in her apartment when he moved so close and kissed her neck. It speaks to him of sex and surrender, trust and love. He'd do anything to keep that look as his own. He'd do anything to see that look everyday for the rest of his life.  
  
His whole body is throbbing for her. He can't take any more suspense. He was seduced by her long ago – but he never actually knew it until today.  
  
Everything seems to have come to a head so fast. Maybe they should be trying to think reasonably about this, consider the consequences of their behavior. They've both been in similar situations; they both know that this particular brand of impulsive can get people into huge trouble. And the last thing he wants is for her to wake up tomorrow morning and tell him she made a mistake.  
  
"Kate, are you sure you want this?" he puffs, closing his eyes briefly and trying to contain himself.  
  
No matter how she answers, he's pretty sure he's going to die of extreme arousal very soon.  
  
He feels her stir against his body, pressing closer than breath. Her hands rove purposefully over his chest as her lips reach up to graze his left ear.  
  
"Gibbs, I'll tell you want I want," she murmurs, confident and seductive. "I _want_ …" she sighs and deliberately presses her hips into his: "your hands…on _my_ body…" Her hands skate down between their bodies to caress his stomach, making his flesh twitch beneath his shirt: "I want," she continues: "my mouth on _your_ body.…"  
  
She takes a deep breath, switching sides to accost his other ear. He takes the opportunity to squeeze her ass and bury his face in her neck. His eyes are still closed tightly, drinking in the giddying scent of her skin and imaging exactly what she's telling him.  
  
"I want every inch of your skin… touching every inch of mine," she breathes, beginning to place a series of whisper-soft kisses down his neck. "I want to kiss you…" she adds, squirming against him restlessly as he begins a similar sequence of kisses over her neck in return: "in every way known to mankind." She moans darkly and stretches her neck as he nibbles his way up to her ear.  
  
Placing her hands on his face, she pulls him up to meet her gaze. "I want to wake up naked with you," she pants, her gaze openly caressing his face: " _Tomorrow_ ," she finishes quietly, her eyes warm and resolute.  
  
"Is that clear enough for you, Gibbs?" she questions smoothly: "Seductive enough for you?"  
  
He bobs his head slowly, waiting for his voice to return. "Just about," he croaks, staring down at her face with enthralled eyes.  
  
She kisses him, teasingly light, and he responds by pulling her body against him, with both hands on her round ass. He grins wolfishly as he lets her feel the stiff promise between his legs.  
  
Kate gasps ecstatically, her eyes slipping shut: "Oh, yes, I want that too…."  
  
"All yours…" he grimaces, dropping his head backwards in pleasurable pain.  
  
A door bangs, two women exit the bathrooms and walk past their concealed grove, chatting quietly. Regretfully, he lifts his hands to the safer territory of her shoulders and lets his head ease forward again, his brow resting hot against hers.  
  
"Tell me we can get out of here soon," he groans, under his breath.  
  
Kate smiles. "Don't you want dessert?" she coos, peering up at him coyly.  
  
"Yes," he tells her pointedly, pulling back and looking her in the eye: "I do." He has a healthy hankering for some red underwear and young flesh – that will be sweet enough for him.  
  
"We've waited this long…" she muses, her voice shivery: "would another hour hurt?"  
  
He grunts, sullenly: "Easy for you to say."  
  
"Think of," she looks to one side, slipping her arms up around his neck: "…think of Fornell."  
  
"Humph," he hums, running his eyes over her neck and down into the enticing dip of her cleavage: "Bit hard to think of anything right now except your red underwear."  
  
She gasps appalled, her eyes glinting petulantly: "Gibbs! You _saw_ ! You--!"  
  
He's pretty sure she was about to call him a pig, but he stops her mouth with another kiss, heated and purposeful. His hands tangle in her thick hair as he tips her head to one side and slips his tongue into her mouth. He draws the air from her lungs into his, drinking the nectar of her mouth and her startled cries. He can feel her soft breasts crushed against his chest, her hips nestled into his aching pelvis and her arms clinging tightly to his neck.  
  
It feels incredible. He can't get enough of her. He can't imagine a better feeling than this but he's pretty sure that later tonight they will discover several.  
  
He breaks their kiss, and Kate tries to follow his mouth greedily, her eyes still closed in passion.  
  
"Then again…" she swallows erratically, opening her hazy eyes and panting softly: "we could be at my place in twenty minutes."  
  
He grins slightly and leans in to whisper in her ear. "Katie…?" he drawls, teasingly.  
  
"What?" she whines, wriggling impatiently.  
  
"Think of…. think of Tony," he mutters smugly and pulls back to look at her.  
  
"Oh! _Ew_ ," she comments twistedly, slapping his shoulder lightly.  
  
She quickly rights herself, giving him a little push on the chest with both hands, before she turns on her heel and stalks away. Gibbs chuckles, slumped against the wall, his head bobbing lazily.  
  
"You coming?" she asks, turning back to him as she's about to slip out into the main area of the restaurant again.  
  
He takes a cleansing breath: "In a minute," he nods.  
  
She runs her eyes down over him, one delicate eyebrow arched: "Okay…."  
  
"You better.… freshen up," he warns her lowly.  
  
The effects of their fondling and kissing might be more obvious on his anatomy but if she returns to the table looking like that, there's going to be no doubt in anyone's mind what they were doing together.  
  
Kate touches a hand to her flushed cheek and runs her fingers over her smudged, swollen lips. Then smiling shyly, she steps through the pot plants and heads down the corridor to the ladies room.  
  
He tries not to watch. He tries not to covet the way her hips swing beneath the red silk. He tries to think of something – _anything_ – that's not tempting or pretty or exciting or even vaguely sexual.  
  
He tests Kate's suggestion of Tobias Fornell -- but whenever he thinks of Fornell, he thinks of meeting Kate. He can't help but recall her eyes glinting up at him ferociously, her hand sealing over his in a firm handshake, or her delicate shape as she lay outstretched and vulnerable on that sofa.  
  
Giving himself a mental headslap, he dismisses that train of thought and attempts to locate another to distract him. After a few minutes of recalling Ducky's meat puzzle, he feels calmer and cooler and sufficiently deflated to return to the table. He glances down at himself, tugging at his clothes and making sure he's presentable. Then he heads back, with a deliberate stride and takes his seat, apologizing for his absence and rejoining the conversation.  
  
A few minutes later, Kate returns from the bathroom, looking like her usual composed self. She slips one hand over his shoulder and glances down at him warmly as she sinks into her seat.  
  
The other guests are polite enough to ignore their obvious impropriety. Sarah is the only one who sends her sister a slightly bewildered, slightly amused look.  
  
Shortly, an elaborately decorated cake arrives at their table, glowing with candles, and the waitstaff join with their party in singing ‘Happy Birthday' to Kate. Kate beams, looking slightly abashed, then blows out the thirty candles with one big breath.  
  
As the others clap, Gibbs steals a hand over to rest on her leg and lightly strokes her thigh. Kate meets his eyes momentarily, her smaller hand finding his beneath the tabletop as his fingers give her a playful squeeze.  
  
While the heat and the tension is still present, both are now far more at ease with the other and the direction they are heading in tonight. It's taken a long time for them to make it to this place; and, hopefully, thinks Gibbs, the remainder of the journey will prove effortless and highly enjoyable.  
  
As her hand lies on top of his, keeping him firmly in place, Kate plucks a creamed cherry off the top of her birthday cake, popping it into her mouth with a giggle of delight.

* * *

  
The car ride back to her apartment is interminable. After earlier wishing that they'd never reach her place, now they can't get there fast enough. It's the perfect opportunity for Gibbs to utilize his unique talent with the accelerator but for once, he seems quite happy to take things easy, drive very carefully.  
  
She's not sure what's gotten into him. She would suspect he was having second thoughts if not for the fact that every time they stop at a light, his hand moves across to caress her knee, or slips over the nape of her neck, his thumb lazily swishing through her hair.  
  
It's driving her insane. The only thing that distracts her from the fire building in her belly is looking at the man she is amazed to be taking home with her tonight. She cannot believe the incredible power and the awesome satisfaction she feels at the prospect of claiming this man as hers. This extraordinary man, who has been her boss and mentor, protector and champion; who she has admired for his integrity and honor, his determination and compassion; who she has studied and coveted and loved for so long –he's going to be in her bed tonight, making love with her.  
  
From her comfy seat, she spends the time watching him drive, openly admiring the well-known contours of his face. She's spent years memorizing them without even meaning to. One day, she simply discovered that they were engraved on her brain, as her idea of perfection, and nothing has been able to shift him since.  
  
Even the aged skin and silver hair is fascinating to her. She runs her languid eyes over his profile, lovingly tracing the curve of his ear and the crook of his eyebrow from afar.  
  
She doesn't quite understand how she can adore every little inch of him so much that it actually hurts to look at him and not touch – but she does. And, finally, she is about to enjoy the opportunity to fully express that to every gorgeous inch of him, body and soul.  
  
At long last, they reach her neighborhood but she can't help groaning under her breath when at first they can't find a park. Gibbs calmly circles the block and eventually pulls into a space. He kills the engine and turns to her, his hand resting on the shoulder of her seat.  
  
For a moment, his eyes just roam over her face, then he leans in and lays his mouth over hers, giving her a brief, open kiss.  
  
"Wait," he murmurs, pulling back and hopping out of the car.  
  
She's not sure what she's waiting for until she sees him jog around to her side to open the door for her. She smiles, thanking him quietly, and feels his large palm take up residence at the small of her back as they cross the road and head for her building.  
  
His hand doesn't leave her the whole way. They are too tense and exposed to talk, but the constant presence of his touch on her back grounds her in her body, grounds her in her feelings for him. So much of what she has stifled for so long is erupting within her and she feels like, if she releases her surging emotion, she will shatter into a million minute pieces and never be the same again.  
  
But Gibbs' palm sits at the base of her spine, steady and warm, as he guides her off the elevator, and together they take the final stretch towards her apartment. She takes a breath as she pulls her keys from her purse, stopping at her door and feeling Gibbs hovering close behind her.  
  
She is about to fit the key into the lock, when she hears a low swishing sound. She stops and suddenly feels a large hand slip into the side zip of her dress.  
  
She sucks in a startled breath and freezes, looking down to see his hand moving beneath the red silk, curling carefully around her waist. His palm is warm and coarse on her bare skin, his touch so gentle as his big body presses closer from behind.  
His hand slips down to cup her belly and he sweeps her hair away to place a little kiss behind her ear.  
  
"Caitlin Todd," he murmurs in a raw, bass tone: "I want you in a thousand ways."  
  
For a millisecond, she blacks out -- she dies a mysterious little death. She possesses no voice to tell him that she wants him too, in every single possible way he has in mind and, perhaps, even a few more.  
  
She collects what she can of her flimsy self-control, determined to communicate this to him in another way. She disregards her nerves and leaves her emotions to run themselves. Shoving the key in the lock, she flings the door open.  
  
They shuffle inside in a flurry of simultaneous motion. Her purse and keys drop to the floor with a clatter and she whirls around to face him. Gibbs' foot kicks the door shut and they reach for each other in the darkness.  
  
He turns her against the hard door, quickly lifting her higher with strong arms and anxious hands. Her arms curl around his neck as their mouths sink into one another again, hot and perfect and free. Kicking off her shoes, she encircles his body with both legs, holding on tight as she feels him push his resurrected hardness between her legs. She moans enthusiastically, her hands in his hair, and breaks their kiss to throw her head back in relief.  
  
Gibbs mouth immediately latches onto her throat and he sucks his way down over her pale flesh. She arches against him, panting uncontrollably as his hand slips inside her dress again, spreading callused fingers over her back and crushing her smaller body to his.  
  
"Gibbs," she sighs weakly as he nibbles and munches at her breasts through the silk: "Gibbs. Bedroom."  
  
He raises his head and gazes up at her for a moment, his eyes mere twinkles in the dark. Then, without a word, he turns and carries her in the direction of her bedroom. She giggles, tasting his neck as she begins unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
He nearly trips over the some of the crap adorning her floor as they enter in blackness. He sets her down on her feet and Kate moves carefully to the bedside to switch on a lamp, washing the room with warm light. She glances about them at her uncharacteristically messy space.  
  
"Sorry about the mess," she shrugs.  
  
"Like I care," he replies brusquely, moving to stand next to her at the bedside.  
  
He reaches down and grabs the top of the bedspread, flinging it and all that lies on it to the floor in a vibrant clutter. For a few seconds, he just stares at the plain white sheets, neatly tucked in at the sides. Then lightly, he runs at hand over the covering on which they will make love, before he turns and sits down.  
  
Looking up at her calmly, he reaches out, curling his fingers around her wrist and drawing her close. She steps between his knees, her hands lifting to rest on his shoulders as his hands land on her hips. She bends to kiss him, her lips tender and deliberate.  
  
She feels his hands glide down to the hem of her dress and begin pulling upwards. She draws back and raises her arms, allowing him to peel the garment over her head and off. Then she straightens, tucking her hair back into place.  
  
Her breath picks up again as his deep blue eyes drift down over her, standing before him in only an elegantly encrusted red bra and panties. Slowly, he extends a hand, grazing his fingertips up the side of her left thigh as his eyes take an eager and thorough inventory of her figure. Goosebumps rise on her skin in response to his teasing touch and leisurely appraisal and she places one hand back on his shoulder to hold herself steady.  
  
"Kate?" he asks incredulously, glancing up at her with a twinkle in his eye: "is this your usual underwear?"  
  
She smiles shyly and whispers: "No."  
  
She can't bring herself to say that she wore the dress and the underwear just for him, hoping he would love her in it – as much as she knows that that would please him. She can't bring herself to tell him that she'd hoped that their evening would end this way and wore her finest underwear in anticipation of it – even though that's the truth. Still, by the way he is devouring her with his eyes, he seems to understand this point without being told.  
  
"Do you like it?" she asks gingerly.  
  
"No," Gibbs muses, sucking in a breath and leaning back slightly, his eyes completing another circuit of her blushing body: "I wouldn't say _‘like'_ was entirely accurate."  
  
"Oh," she responds carelessly, shifting closer between his legs. "Perhaps I should take it off then," she suggests innocently, tipping her head to one side and slipping her thumb under one bra strap.  
  
Gibbs meets her eyes, holding out his hands, palm up. "Allow me," he quips smugly, with a lopsided smile.  
  
She gives him a closed-lipped grin and moves in as close as possible for him, her knees pressing against the mattress and the material of his jeans brushing her calves. But Gibbs wants her even closer.  
  
With his hands on her waist, he scoots back a little on the bed and draws her forward onto the bed with him. She kneels over him, her legs curled either side of his lap and her ass settling down on his thighs. She rests her hands on his arms, watching him intently, his eyes entirely focused on and enraptured by her breasts.  
  
He skims his palms up and down her back a few times, before he glances up at her face. She gives him a little nod and he continues, moving his hands to the clasp on her back and deftly undoing it.  
  
Slow and savoring, he slips the straps off her shoulders and lets the bra drop away from her generous curves. Her breasts are round and full and she can feel her heart pounding beneath the aching flesh as she awaits his touch.  
  
She gasps when he swoops in, gently cupping her with both big hands and kissing the skin between her fragrant mounds. His lips and his tongue and his teeth cover every inch of her breasts, one at a time, tasting and kissing one as he massages the other. She throws back her head in ecstasy as his hot tongue laves up the center of her chest and his thumbs tweak her nipples into hard, eager points.  
  
"Stand up," he grunts suddenly, hands back on her waist.  
  
"What?" she puffs confused.  
  
"On the bed," he nods, patting the sheet either side of his hips: "Stand up."  
  
She grips his shoulders and obeys, getting to her feet and carefully standing over him on the bed. Gibbs leans back, tilting his head to look up at her, his hands on her ankles.  
  
"You're very beautiful," he muses quietly: "You know that, Kate?"  
  
She's not sure how to answer him, standing so exposed and entranced before him. Her increasing arousal is perfectly visible to him as he sits at her feet, his eyes on a level with her crotch. She just smiles down at him and reaches out to comb her fingers through his hair. His hands drift up her legs, teasingly light, until he reaches her hips.  
  
"This is all for me…" he mumbles distantly, his gaze focused on her covered sex.  
  
It's more a statement than a question, and she's not sure if he's referring to the underwear that she wore for him or the moist patch that's rapidly spreading on her panties.  
  
"Yes," she replies in a whisper, answering both options.  
  
He holds her hips between both palms and leans up to place a kiss on her stomach, just above the trim of her panties. His hot breath penetrates the fabric as his mouth moves steadily lower and he places another wet kiss in the tender valley between her belly and thigh.  
  
She twitches ticklishly, her mouth opening on a silent, amazed plea. Cupping his head with her hands, she grips him tighter and watches rapt, as he repeats the caress on the opposite side.  
  
His hands skim around to her ass, slipping under the silk, and he tugs her towards him, burying his nose in the dampness of her steamy, musky panties. He breathes her in for a long moment, closing his eyes and humming coarsely in the back of his throat. Then he opens his mouth and licks the material covering her dripping core.  
  
"God!" she cries out, her knees buckling with the shock.  
  
He steadies her, gazing up at her flushed face and crooking his fingers over the edge of her panties. She opens her eyes fuzzily and meets his gaze as he begins peeling the last covering off her body.  
  
His eyes drop as he proceeds with her unraveling, his light touches on her lower body sending tingling shivers up her spine. He stops with the material halfway down her thighs, her legs trembling visibly, and stares at her, transfixed. Slipping one finger in between her velvety lips, he softly strokes the length of her vulva, amazed at the abundant moisture emanating from her opening.  
  
"You're so wet…" he mutters hotly: "Jesus. I've dreamed of making you wet for me…"  
  
He withdraws his glistening finger, glowering up at her as he sticks it in his mouth and licks it clean. She raises her eyebrows feebly, feeling a shameless whimper rise in her chest.  
  
He swiftly pulls her panties down her legs and off, throwing them away. She lifts her feet for him, then gratefully sinks into his welcoming lap. She still feels shaky and vulnerable, sitting naked in his lap while he is still practically dressed. But there's something about the decadence of it that seems to appeal to them both.  
  
Gibbs runs his gleaming eyes over her body and slips his hands beneath her hair, cupping her head and grazing her jaw with his thumbs. He gazes into her eyes for a moment, then leans in to capture her mouth with his. His kiss is purposeful and passionate and she lets him take the lead this time, opening her mouth to his exploration and melting against him in overwhelming lust.  
  
He kisses her for an eternity, his hands sifting through her hair, brushing her naked skin, teasing her breasts, stroking her waist and fondling her ass. She moans into his mouth, feeling her responsive core twitch and release her juice.  
  
Her hands finish unbuttoning his shirt and slide it off his shoulders. Then she moves on to unbuckle his belt. He groans when she brushes his erection through his pants, and breaks their kiss. He pulls her into him, grinding his starving sex into her defenseless slit.  
  
She lifts up carefully, then slowly settles down on top of him, coating the coarse denim of his jeans with her nectar as they thrust against each other rapturously. He bucks up into her sharply and she cries out as he drives between her sensitive folds and his zipper scrapes over her distended clitoris.  
  
His hungry mouth closes over her breast and he sucks with all his might as they sink back to the bed, so entwined, her flesh enclosed in the warm cavern of his mouth and her fists twisted in his hair. Her legs settle either side of his pelvis and her hands brace herself on the bed as she peers down at him suckling her and continues rolling her greedy pussy over his trapped hard-on in a slow, rhythmic cadence.  
  
The heat is rising rapidly in her face and loins and strangled moans are rising in her throat. What he's doing to her passes description, overwhelms comprehension. Everything feels so good and it's a futile struggle to keep her eyes open as Gibbs switches to her other breast, leaving the first wet and ruddy and mangled by his enthusiastic loving.  
  
Attempting to retain some control, she slithers one hand between them to unzip him, fumbling slightly in her haze. Gibbs drops his head back to the bed and watches her face as she succeeds in slipping one hand inside his pants to cup his throbbing flesh.  
  
"God, Kate…" he groans, clutching her as she tenderly caresses him.  
  
She traces his long cock with her fingertips, then carefully digs deeper, loosely grasping his balls in her small hand. He feels hot and big, hard and smooth. She leans down and nibbles on his neck as she touches him, feeling her sex answer his with curious contractions.  
  
After a while, Gibbs tries to roll them over and take control but Kate pushes him back, sitting up on him.  
  
"This is still _my_ seduction," she tells him decidedly, her free hand skating down the center of his well-defined chest.  
  
She lifts herself off his body, kneeling beside him and slowly beginning to remove his pants. He lies still and watches her with piercing, bright eyes. His erection springs free, full and dark with blood, as she gently tugs his boxers down with his jeans. She pulls his shoes off and socks, dropping them to the floor and glancing up at him as the denim follows.  
  
They are finally naked together. He rests one foot on the bedspread, propping his leg up and shielding himself slightly from her attentive gaze. She caresses the foot planted by her knee.  
  
"I like your feet," she murmurs offhandedly.  
  
"Why?" he asks, his voice croaky.  
  
"I don't know," she replies, letting her fingers drift up his leg: "I just do."  
  
His bent leg falls straight again, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, and he allows her hand to travel up the inside of his thigh. She moves further up, using a firmer touch to stroke all around the impressive organ rising proudly from his groin.  
  
She takes a deep breath, her hand leaving him and not an inch of their skin touching for a moment. Then gently, she circles her fingers around the base of his cock.  
  
She hears him draw in a breath and sees his hips shift upwards in eagerness for her touch. She examines him momentarily, noting his particular shape and color, length and width before she leans down and opens her mouth.  
  
"Kate--" he stops her, sounding desperate: "I don't think I can take that," he mutters, staring at her mouth.  
  
She pauses then stretches out beside him, her front pressing into his side and her chin propped on his shoulder. Her hand skates over his broad, hard chest in deliberate circles as she peers up at him from beneath her eyelashes.  
  
"Just a little taste," she wheedles, playfully: "I promise I'll be gentle."  
  
Gibbs chuckles mordantly and stares at the ceiling. She knows he can't deny her this, she knows he can't deny her anything right now. She wants to give him this as much as he wants to receive it. And she is as reluctant to end this prematurely as he is. She wants that giant, gorgeous piece of flesh inside her tonight, filling her to the brim like no other.  
  
She slithers back down the bed until she's kneeling beside his hips, facing his stiff cock. She licks her lips, her eyes lighting up excitedly. She's never seen another one that she liked the look of so much. She's infatuated with it already. It's so beautiful -- and very impressive the way it stands up straight and tall.  
  
She doesn't even have to hold him when she leans in to lave him from base to tip with the flat if her tongue. Carefully, lovingly she bathes him in warm saliva using slow, long licks to tease his rigid pole.  
  
He tastes amazing – spicy and robust, hot and sexual. Briefly, she stops and blows a cool stream of air over him, making him writhe and groan.  
  
She glances up at his face. He's watching her every move, his eyes feral and glazed. His hand lifts to stroke her hair and she returns to her task. Wrapping her hand around him, she squeezes lightly and slips her lips over the tip of him. She sucks softly. He groans loudly.  
  
Withdrawing momentarily, she feels his hand slide down from her hair, gliding over her bent back and coming to rest on one protruding ass cheek. She places her mouth over him for another taste, this time sinking as far down on his shaft as she can go and smoothly bobbing up and down. His hand squeezes her ass and his hips press up towards her.  
  
"Kate!" he gasps.  
  
She stifles a satisfied smile and withdraws again, letting him recover for a moment. Then removing her hand, she slips him into her mouth again, slowly nudging him deeper and deeper until he hits the back of her mouth and slides into her throat a little way.  
  
He shouts brokenly, his rod expanding in her mouth as he writhes beneath her in joyous agony. She breathes deeply through her nose, holding him embedded and savoring the smell and taste of his masculinity. Her hand smoothes up and down his thigh calmly as she hums around his buried erection.  
  
"Agh! Kate!" he shouts: "Stop. Stop now--!"  
  
She obeys and backs off, not touching him at all. He throws a hand over his face, clamping his eyes shut. His other hand shoots down to squeeze the root of his penis with two fingers and then carefully jiggle his balls. He releases a breath and she sees some of the tension drain from his body.  
  
After a long moment, the hand lying over his eyes lifts and reaches for her as he meets her concerned gaze.  
  
"That felt… incredible," he breathes as she stretches out beside him again: "You have no idea how good…" He grins languidly, gazing down at her and stroking her hip: "Don't want to finish that way though."  
  
"Another time," she promises quietly, tracing his chin with lazy fingers.  
  
He drags her body on top of him and she arranges herself so that she isn't crushing his tortured manhood. His nakedness feels heavenly pressed against hers and she caresses his shins with her toes, feeling the coarse hair tickle her feet. His hands push her hair away from her face, tangling in the curly tresses and tugging her down to his mouth.  
  
Their kisses are gentle, at first, but deep. Kate relaxes into him completely, her tongue sliding along his as one hand skates down her spine, resting at the small of her back.  
  
But it's not long before their mutual fire flares again and their gentle pace becomes insufficient for their thirst. Their kisses become more feverish, their hands become more greedy, more daring. Their hips pulse against one another restlessly, craving their inevitable union.  
  
They move at the same time. Kate sits back and Gibbs rises up. Her arms encircle his neck as his wrap about her waist. Her legs spread over his body as he pulls her close. She kneels up over him, his hands landing on her hips and suspending her over his throbbing erection.  
  
Two fingers slip between her folds, smearing her juices and spreading her plump folds. Then slowly, she lowers herself over him. Her mouth drops open as the round head pushes against her entrance. She reaches down to adjust the angle and allows him to sink slowly inside.  
  
Gibbs exhales loudly, watching as he disappears inside her glistening core, bit by bit. The feeling of accepting him into her body is so powerful that her chest swells with sentimentality. On top of which, his thickness is stretching her inner walls and creating a delicious pressure that's making her melt all over his lap.  
  
She closes her eyes with the sheer pleasure of it and drops her head to his shoulder. He's not even all the way inside her yet but she's already consumed by sensation. His hands glide up her back carefully.  
  
"You okay?" he pants, nuzzling her ear.  
  
"Yeah," she whispers.  
  
He is still beneath her, within her. "You want it all?" he asks quietly, after a moment.  
  
She can't think of a smart comeback so she just lifts her heavy head and murmurs: "Yes," gazing at him with druggy eyes: "Please."  
  
One big palm cups her face briefly, and he looks into her eyes. Then, adjusting his legs beneath her, he makes sure they are both seated comfortably and he moves his hands back to her hips. The movement jostles her against him and she moans into his neck. The pressure inside her is almost unbearable. She can feel her pulse squeezing him irregularly and her whole pelvis seems to be opening up with an agonizing lassitude.  
  
"Relax, Katie… Ready?" Gibbs mutters, holding her in position and watching her pink pussy stretch around his impressive size. He pulls down on her hips and thrusts up beneath her, gentle but insistent. "Take it all, baby…" he murmurs hazily: "You can take it all." He thrusts again, sliding deeper and mashing his mouth over hers to swallow her astonished yelp. He groans deeply as their tongues tangle a moment.  
  
"Take me in," he pleads as he digs a little further into her grasping tunnel: "I'll make it good. I  
  
promise I'll make you feel so good…"  
  
"Uh--! Yes!!" she wails encouragingly, her head thrown back, her fingernails scratching his back.  
  
He gives another sharp shove, and a bolt of pleasure strikes her clit as she feels herself settle on top of him, fully impaled by his massive rod. They both groan, sighing with relief. Then they chuckle at themselves -- which makes them groan again from the vibrations.  
  
"Feel good?" he asks softly, lifting her head off his shoulder and scanning her face.  
  
"God, yes," she smiles, taking a deep, shaky breath and feeling herself adjust to the fullness in her belly.  
  
He pulls her face towards him, planting three sweet, serious kisses on her lips. Kate shifts in his lap, watching his face contort and his head drop backwards.  
  
"Jesus…. You're so snug, Kate," he mutters under his breath: "feels amazing…"  
  
His hands move back to her hips, helping to lift her body up and down on him. Her thighs tremble slightly as they start to move together, their sweaty chests crushed to each other, their open mouths panting against one another as their eyes lock in heated awe.  
  
After a while, Gibbs buries his face in her neck and moves his hands to cup her ass, letting her soft pussy roll over him at her pace. Her tempo stays slow and gentle for a while, agonizingly sweet. But when she starts to take him all the way out and then all the way in with each movement, they simultaneously speed up.  
  
She clings to his body, the combined heat of their bodies making her head spin and her skin burn. All of her arches towards him for relief from the unbearable ache he has put within her. Her hips begin to bang against his, meeting his more measured thrusts.  
  
"Harder," she urges, breathily: "Please harder."  
  
Gibbs pulls back and looks at her, realizing how close she is already, but unable to do much more in his position. He swoops in to claim one aching breast with his mouth, scraping his teeth over her sensitive nub. She cries out, her head tipped back in surrender, her body undulating on his in mindless rapture.  
  
Gibbs switches breasts and sucks her harder. His hands slam her down on him so that he's hitting her sweet spot so perfectly that it only takes three strong thrusts and she's gone – flying, floating, writhing and screaming, her whole body wracked with the most delicious spasms.  
  
As she finishes, he falls back and she follows him onto the cool sheets. He strokes her moist back as she sprawls on top of him, shuddering with aftershocks, completely languid and spent. Her eyes are closed and her cheek on his chest for she doesn't know how long.  
  
Suddenly returning to herself, she lifts her head and looks up at him. Gibbs' eyes are turned towards the ceiling, but he meets her gaze, his expression both pained and patient. She feels like apologizing but refrains.  
  
"I've never come so hard in my life," she mumbles, a little shy.  
  
Gibbs smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. She levers up onto her hands, leaning over him and tugging at his lips, one at a time, with a sensuous, persistent intent. He hums and strains beneath her, still hard and hot in her recovering vagina.  
  
She begins rocking her hips against his, leisurely and relentless, her breasts swaying between them as her mouth continues to make love to his. His hands smooth up and down her sides, occasionally drifting over her spread thighs as they both enjoy the new angle. He's so deep inside her that she feels like he belongs there now.  
  
"God, Katie, yeah…" he groans in a tortured tone: "you feel so incredible…"  
  
"More?" she pants, against his lips, thoroughly relishing her consummate conquest.  
  
"More," he sighs, grinning up at her as he slides his hands down to cup her ass and urge her onto him. "More!" he growls, cursing when she plunges onto him with a particularly hard impact: "Oh, Fuck!--sorry…" he mumbles, shaking his head.  
  
"S'okay," she murmurs, kissing his mouth: "Say whatever you want."  
  
"Ohhhh… FUCK, Katie -- _unbelievable_ !!" he bawls, his eyes closed, his hands bruising the flesh of her ass as he follows her movements. "Nothing," he grunts with each strong dive inside her: "has ever… felt… _this_ … fucking GOOD!"  
  
She moves back, sitting up and tossing her hair over her shoulder as she takes every gorgeous inch of his tumescent cock into her body, faster, deeper, harder. Her hands soothe his chest and abdomen as her eyes study his intense expression.  
  
She rides him, effortlessly, the discomfort gone and the pleasure exquisite. She is wet and open and unconditionally his. She feels like she was created exactly for this, exactly for him.  
  
He opens his eyes to look up at her, his expression softening and all the struggle leaving his body as their eyes connect. He gives himself over to her absolute seduction, his eyes brimming with awe and lust and love and bliss.  
  
Then suddenly, his body jolts and convulses under her, his head tips back, the tendons in his neck straining beneath his skin as his mouth opens on a euphoric roar.  
  
His cock pulses within her and his hands grip her tight as he comes and comes and comes, deep inside her. She clasps her hands over his on her hips, witnessing his ecstasy and writhing with the satisfaction of feeling his essence claim her.  
  
Then, as his body slackens, she falls back onto his chest, wrapped in his arms and perfectly satisfied.

  
Kate wakes alone. Sunlight streams through the open windows, splashing and warming the tossed tangle of bed sheets. She can hear the shower running down the hall and can smell coffee brewing in the kitchen.  
  
She rolls onto her back, stretching her arms out at her sides and squirming contently beneath the sheets. With one hand, she grabs the pillow from the other side of the bed and hugs it to her chest -- it still smells of Gibbs.  
  
She giggles at the ceiling. She's thirty and she's happy.  
  
She rises from her bed, hunting for something to throw over herself. It figures that Gibbs would be up before her. It's a pity – she was really looking forward to waking up in his arms.  
  
Oh well, she thinks, finding his shirt on the floor and slipping it around her shoulders, she'll have to content herself with dragging him back to her bed and keeping him there for the rest of the weekend.  
  
She fastens the top button of the shirt and runs her hands through her unruly hair. Slopping around her room sleepily, she picks up a few bits and pieces, making an apathetic effort at tidying her room. It looks even worse in the daytime -- Gibbs must think her an absolute slob.  
  
Usually, she's not. Usually, she lives in a world of order and discipline and balance. Her days are governed by predictability and practicality -- until yesterday. He'd only been in her private life a mere twenty-four hours and already he was making a mess of her. She'd spent the entire day yesterday thrown completely off balance by Jethro Gibbs.  
  
She wasn't used to feeling so..…so _free_ , so natural, so impulsive. It was glorious.  
  
With a silly grin on her face, she shoves her scattered shoes back in the wardrobe, folds the discarded dresses over a chair and stuffs the entangled lingerie in her drawers. Then she pads down the corridor, stifling a yawn and craving some coffee. But as she's passing the bathroom, she hears something odd from within. She stops and leans closer to the door.  
  
Is that _Gibbs…..humming_ ?? This she has to witness for herself.  
  
He's left the door slightly ajar, which to her, is practically an invitation, so she gingerly slips inside. The small room steams with the masculine scent of him and through the mist and the glass walls of the shower, she can see his big, brown, brawny body standing under the flowing water, turned mostly away from her.  
  
Standing quiet and still, she runs her eyes over his magnificent back, toned butt and legs, her lips lifting at each edge. Even at his age, he is a fine specimen of a man.  
  
She can barely believe that this is her boss in her shower. That this is the man she held and caressed and took into her body last night. Twice. She would've expected her hunger for him to abate somewhat but she is so greedy for more that she could scream it from the rooftop.  
  
Gibbs, seemingly oblivious to her presence, picks up her soap and runs it over his shoulders, one then the other, then around his chest a couple of times, thoroughly cleansing his skin. She loves the way he touches his own body; his movements habitual and effortless and elegant, his muscles flexing with each circuit.  
  
Humming quietly, he gathers some suds in his hands and slips one palm down to circle about his stomach and lightly graze his penis. It looks sensitive, the way he handles it. She can see his head fall back a little and his eyes close over. She wonders if he's thinking about last night -- she wonders if he's thinking about her. He swipes his hand under to clean his balls, juggling them in his soapy palm before he continues down his body.  
  
Gleaning more soapy froth, he bends over and runs both hands over his legs and feet, meticulous and thorough. When he's finished, he turns around, standing under the spray, and spots her standing by the door.  
  
He looks completely unsurprised by her presence, quietly watching and admiring him as the white bubbles run down his glistening body and circle the drain. She takes a step forward, fiddling with the top button of his shirt and raising her voice a little above the hiss of the falling water.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" she asks shyly.  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," he replies with a smug smile.  
  
He watches as she undoes his shirt, dropping it to the floor as she walks towards him. Gibbs opens the shower door, stepping aside to allow her entry and leaning down for a wet kiss.  
  
"Good morning," he mumbles, water dripping down his face and off his chin.  
  
"Morning," she hums happily, returning his light kiss with her eyes open and her hands on his wet chest.  
  
He guides her under the spray and she runs her hands over her hair as the water cascades over her head and down her body. She feels both tense and relaxed from last night – certain muscles ache unmercifully, while others still feel weak and floppy.  
  
Opening her eyes, she sees Gibbs standing in the corner of the cramped cubicle, eyes unabashedly focused on her breasts. She blushes a little and picks up a loofah, dabbing it with soap. But before she can touch it to her skin, he steals it.  
  
Giving it a skeptical glance, he silently motions for her to turn around. She complies and, starting with her back, he begins washing her with the fuzzy sponge using long, lingering strokes.  
  
She feels her skin tingle excitedly, with the smooth abrasion and the warmth of his gaze, investigating her body. Slipping his arms under hers, his naked body moves closer and he runs the puff in circles over her right breast, while the left receives an affectionate squeeze from his other hand.  
  
She moans languorously, her nipples still sensitive from the previous night, and leans back into him. She can feel his length stirring against her backside as he massages her breasts and places wet kisses along her hairline.  
  
After a while, he drops the sponge to the tile, covering her with both hands, and humming contentedly. She looks down at his large, tanned hands on her paler, pretty mounds, the sight amazing and arousing.  
  
"Think they're clean yet?" she murmurs dryly.  
  
Gibbs bites her shoulder lightly: "I've waited a long time to get my hands on these."  
  
She giggles and arches into his touch. "I love the way you touch me," she sighs: "Feels so good…"  
  
"Oh, baby," he mumbles lowly, nibbling on her earlobe: "we're just getting warmed up."  
  
She moans slightly, letting her eyes drift closed: "Hmm, I love when you call me ‘baby' too."  
  
"You do?" he hums interestedly, sliding one hand carefully down her body.  
  
"Yeah," she breathes, as his hand covers her apex: "…makes me wet."  
  
He growls and slips one finger between her folds to investigate this. Her eyes snap open. She is still swollen and moist from the previous night's activities, and she can feel her eager pussy now pumping out more wetness to welcome him. His finger circles her opening then pushes a little way within.  
  
"Wow…" he whispers and kisses her cheek, swirling his finger around in her a little. "Here," he says suddenly, gently removing his finger and grabbing one of her hands: "I want you to feel this…"  
  
He lowers her hand to her sex and with his finger, pushes her middle finger inside her tender tunnel. Kate looks down, watching their hands and feeling her smaller digit penetrate her entrance. Even to her, she feels luscious, divine, fascinating.  
  
" _This is_ ," he mutters in her ear: "the _best_ feeling in the world." He strokes the hand she has inserted within her and rubs his stubbly cheek over her damp one. "Can you imagine," he continues, his voice rich with desire and sensuality: "how it feels for me….to be inside there?" He turns to look at her face, one hand running slowly up and down her lowered arm while his other hand still on her breast, circles carefully, rubbing her nipple. "To be _deep_ – all the way inside…" he groans and she can feel him stiffening against her ass: "that softness, that sweetness."  
  
She whimpers and closes her eyes. In a way she can imagine what that must feel like and in a way she can't. But she supposes it evokes similar sensations in him to the ones she feels when she has him filling her up, hard and full and exquisite.  
  
He wraps his hand around her wrist and her finger emerges from her core slick and warm. He lifts her palm to his face, placing it against his cheek and kissing her mound of Venus. She looks over her shoulder at him, blinking slowly and holding his eyes. Her other hand swings behind to clutch his thigh, her fingernails scraping gently up the flank. He leans in to capture her lips, drinking eagerly from her mouth as his hands resume their exquisite torture, one on her breast and one slipping between her soft folds.  
  
He's barely even trying. His kisses are languid, his hands unhurried and patient. But all it takes for her is one touch, one magic word, and he can turn her mind into mush and her body into pure sensation.  
  
She feels utterly taken over by him, utterly entranced. She can't think of a single thing right now but him and how good it feels to be the object of his affection. If she'd known that being with him would be this mind-blowingly good, she never could've waited all this time.  
  
His finger slips up to circle her clit, lazily, swiping it once or twice with his fingernail. She jumps and dissolves against him. He grips her tighter, holding her upright as he nibbles on her neck and lightly pinches her nipples.  
  
"And just when I think," he begins again, his voice low and raspy in her ear: "it can't feel any better…." He pauses for a long while, his hands moving over her body as the water drizzles over them and the steam swirls about them. He slips two fingers back into her canal, pumping softly and taking over the torment of her clit with his thumb.  
  
"You come," he says finally and she does.  
  
She cries his name and throws her head back against his shoulder, her legs trembling as her pussy flutters on his digits in increasing waves.  
  
"It gets tighter…and wetter," he tells her, huskily as she moans in his arms. He drives into her harder, not releasing her from her ecstasy. "Your body starts to shake," he murmurs, and she feels his avid gaze, drifting over her quivering flesh: "just like this. And you squeeze my dick--" he scissors his fingers a couple of times in her spasming cunt: "just like that. And I swear," he moans, rubbing against her and clutching her breast so hard that he might leave prints: "I could _die_ from pleasure."  
  
She gives one last moan as her walls collapse around his buried digits, her hips thrust towards his hand. Then she slumps weakly, her hands at her sides, her eyes closed. He guides her back under the spray and she tilts her flushed face up to receive the cooling water.  
  
After a while, she turns in his arms, clinging to his neck and pulling him down to her mouth. Their bodies press together, as they kiss, languid and long, water flowing down over them in equal measure, until it suddenly turns cold.  
  
Kate shrieks, terminating their kiss. Gibbs reaches over her shoulder, flicks off the tap and then pushes the door open with a bang. She shivers as she grabs her towel from the handrail, rubbing her hair briefly and then wrapping it around her body.  
  
Gibbs glances about for another towel, standing on the mat, drenched and chilled. He glares at her, his grey hair dark and flat, his chest hair slick and matted and his dripping penis sticking out at her obnoxiously.  
  
"Do I get a towel?" he demands, holding his arms out at his sides.  
  
She tips her head to the side and runs her gaze over him, deliberate and desirous: "Hm…" she shrugs carelessly: "I think I like you like that."  
  
Gibbs nods coolly, scanning the bathroom once more. Then suddenly, he lunges towards her, snatching her body up and throwing her over his shoulder.  
  
She shrieks again, bouncing over his body as he flings open the door and rushes out with a billow of steam. He carries her into the bedroom and tosses her down to the bed in a tangle of wet limbs and wild hair. She giggles as he crawls up onto the bed, his naked magnificence towering over her as he grasps the front of her towel.  
  
"You asked for it…" he mumbles, yanking at the wrapper.  
  
It opens at the front and he keeps pulling, forcing her to roll onto her stomach. He whips it free, throwing it down to the end of the bed and growling savagely. And before she can turn over again, she feels his wet, heavy body move over hers and settle on top of her back.  
  
"Hmmm," he hums, rubbing against her fresh skin: "I think I like _you_ like _this_ ."  
  
She giggles and tries to toss her hair out of her eyes. Gibbs smoothes it to one side and she turns her head to peer up at him from the corner of her eye. His hands lower to trace the dip of her waist as he places a kiss on the back of her neck.  
  
"Mmm, you taste good," he grunts softly, dragging his mouth down her spine.  
  
She stretches out beneath him and bats the pillow away, giving herself over to his seduction. His hands and his lips move slowly and tenderly over her back, covering and investigating every inch and making her squirm with pleasure. He shifts off her a little, one hand moving down to caress her butt cheek.  
  
"Ah," he breathes, circling an area with two fingers: "the famous tattoo."  
  
Her eyelids flutter with the delicacy of his touch. He moves further down and puts his mouth over the area, swirling his tongue around and around. She gasps and bucks beneath him.  
  
"Lemme guess," he mutters dryly, his attention still focused on her rear end: "you were drunk."  
  
She smiles into the sheet: "A little."  
  
Gibbs pauses then moves up closer, covering her again with his body and peering at her face over her shoulder. He gives her a questioning look, eyebrows raised, having picked up on the avoidance beneath her tone.  
  
"What made you get it?" he asks directly, his voice quiet and curious.  
  
She smiles slightly. "I had definitely had a few too many," she admits, hesitantly. She lowers her eyes, drawing circles on the sheet with her fingers: "but it was more because…well, my heart was broken."  
  
Gibbs shifts to one side slightly so that he can see her face better, but his eyes are not critical or demanding. When she glances up at him, they're soft and sympathetic.  
  
"By who?" he asks carefully.  
  
"A guy at law school," she replies lightly, giving the memory no more weight than it deserves: "We were engaged… for about five minutes. I even had the ring to prove it."  
  
"Yeah?" he runs a hand down her side: "What happened?"  
  
She glances back at him. "He cheated on me," she confesses with a sigh: "More than once."  
  
Gibbs hums solemnly and bobs his head a few times. "Do you regret getting it?" he asks after a pause, smoothing his hand over her ass.  
  
"No," she answers without uncertainty.  
  
She levers up onto her elbows to try to explain as Gibbs goes back to kissing her ass.  
  
"It wasn't about Jeff, really. I got it for myself…" she takes a deep breath, finding it surprisingly easy to talk to him about the affair.  
  
It's so long ago now that it really doesn't cause her any pain to recall it. Jeff was everything she was taught to aspire to, brought up to want. He was smart, handsome, steady and assiduous. He was the approved choice, the safe choice – but he put her heart in danger in a way she never expected.  
  
Actually, she feels like she owes him a huge debt of gratitude. If he hadn't destroyed things between them, she would never have found her own way in the world. She would never have joined the Secret Service or encountered NCIS. And she probably wouldn't be lying in bed with this man who was anything but the safe choice, but who was undoubtedly her heart's deepest desire.  
  
"Even while feeling that pain… and betrayal…" she muses distantly, her head in her hand: "somehow, I knew that I'd be alright. That's why I got the tattoo. To remind myself. Because… I knew," she continues, quiet and assured: "that I would find someone who I loved better. And who loved me better."  
  
Gibbs' lips leave her skin and he rolls to the side, lying beside her and stroking her back. "Think that might be me?" he asks, watching her face intently.  
  
She thinks he already knows her answer to that. "What do you think?" she counters quietly, meeting his eyes.  
  
He looks at her for a long moment then kisses her shoulder tenderly. "I wouldn't be here," he murmurs: "if I didn't think that."  
  
She smiles softly, closing her eyes as he leans in to kiss her very lightly, his hand continuing to skim up and down her spine. Their lips move together gently for a few long minutes and she feels his patient arousal reassert itself against her hip.  
  
They pull back, gazing at each other openly as her hand traces his jaw. His eyes scan her face briefly and she sees him hesitate before speaking.  
  
"Close your eyes, Kate," he whispers suddenly.  
  
She blinks up at him momentarily and then obeys, lying still and expectant.  
  
"Do you trust me?" he asks softly, sweeping her hair away from her face.  
  
"Yes," she replies instantly, feeling him lean over her body and over the side of the bed.  
  
"Good," he murmurs: "Keep your eyes closed…"  
  
She obeys, licking her lips and waiting for whatever he is planning. She can hear him fiddling with something and then a moment later, fabric, soft and fine wraps around her eyes.  
  
She puts a hand up to her face and feels the material. She suspects it's one of her black stockings -- she must have neglected to put it away. Her heartbeat ratchets up a notch and she takes deep breath as Gibbs ties the blindfold behind her head.  
  
"Okay?" he whispers by her ear, stroking her hair.  
  
She nods mutely and bites her lip, trying to open her eyes and finding she can't. She feels him pull away and retrieve the towel from under her foot at the end of the bed. He kneels by her and begins to dry her off, patting and stroking her skin, still wet from the shower. His hands draw the towel down her arms, one at a time, then down her back and over her ass. He daubs the remaining wetness from the backs of her thighs and calves and then lifts each of her legs to dry her feet.  
  
She hears the towel drop and, to her surprise, she then feels his mouth caressing her foot as he holds her ankle in both his hands. She squeals and squirms at the ticklish sensation, trying to yank her foot out of his grasp. But Gibbs holds her tight, sliding his tongue up the arch of her foot.  
  
Her eyes screw up tightly, beneath the blindfold. She kicks her free foot against the mattress and buries her face in the sheet to muffle her tortured giggles. Gibbs chuckles darkly from the foot of the bed, watching her flesh bounce and writhe as he slowly sinks his mouth over her big toe, swirling his tongue around it. She shouts, screams his name, and slaps the bed, laughing uncontrollably.  
  
She is blind in a world of sensation and the sensation is unbelievable – both ticklish and titillating, addictive and unbearable. How can just the feeling of his mouth sucking lightly on her toe make her entire body quake? How can his tongue ducking between her toes be so damn sexy?  
  
She softens and moans as he lowers one foot and picks up the other. His hands skate down her calf as she waits in anticipation for the bizarre, cringing, exciting sensation. Then he takes her into his mouth again, sucking on her toes and laving her ticklish foot. She writhes and sobs unrestrainedly, her hips shifting against the bed and her breath quickening.  
  
Finally, he leaves her feet alone, leaving them tingling and slightly moist as he starts kissing up the backs of her legs. He takes his time, dragging his lips over her skin and following his journey with his fingers. He kisses the backs of her knees, sucking on the tender flesh so long that she may not be able to wear skirts for a week. She moans, stretching her arms up over her head, her hands screwing up into fists over and over again.  
  
"This spot," Gibbs murmurs against her skin, tracing the crevice where her thigh turns into her butt: "I love this spot."  
  
He leans in to mark it with his tongue and she moans. He opens his mouth, grazing his teeth over her skin as he kisses the soft flesh and sucks it into his mouth. He licks and tastes ever millimeter of that spot, then moves to the other side to give it the same treatment.  
  
He must smell the arousal that is flowing freely from between her thighs, as she lies beneath him, captive and receptive. But he ignores that part of her body, sliding back up and placing a few random kisses on her back and shoulders.  
  
She feels his hands land either side of her and then feels his body lower on top of hers again, heavy and hard. His erection juts between her ass cheeks and he moans lowly. A finger caresses her neck softly and she whimpers in the back of her throat.  
  
"And this spot here," he muses, his voice infiltrating her hearing, filling her thoughts: "I love this little freckle."  
  
He buries his face in her shoulder and places his lips over the little mark on her neck, sucking and laving it the way he has the rest of her body. She feels like a mass of need and languor beneath him, sheltered and owned by his bigger body. His hands slip under her to squeeze her breasts as his pelvis begins rocking against her leisurely. He pokes his now full hardness in between her legs and thrusts between her drenched folds, groaning with satisfaction.  
  
"Aww, Katie, I could do this all day…" he sighs, squeezing and thrusting.  
  
"Please don't," she puffs, a slight twist of humor in her unsteady tone: "I couldn't stand it…"  
  
He runs his hands up her arms, stretching them over her head and placing her hands around the bottom rung of the headboard. She holds on tight, as his hands skim back to cover her breasts.  
  
"No? -- Then ask me…" he drawls in her ear, his tone urgent and indulgent: "Ask me for what you want."  
  
She sobs in frustration: "You know what I want."  
  
"Yeah. Lemme hear it," he urges, persistently brushing her fleshy petals with his shaft.  
  
She drops her head down on her out-stretched arms, searching her brain for the proper words. Obscene and prudent phrases swirl and jumble around her dazed brain but she can't seem to project them out of her mouth.  
  
She tries to guess at how Gibbs wishes her to express the raw, aching need that overcomes her body. Lightly, he strokes the blindfold over her eyes once, as if to emphasize who is running the show this time. But embarrassment still overwhelms her.  
  
He rises up suddenly, moving off her. She hears him moving then feels him tap her hip.  
  
"Lift," he orders.  
  
She does, feeling a cool pillow slide beneath her hips. She presses against it, rubbing her thighs together restlessly and griping the rail of the headboard.  
  
It doesn't even occur to her to move from the position he has put her it, or slip off the blindfold and jump him. They both know she could. And they both know she doesn't want to. The tease is too enjoyable, the control too delicious.  
  
It amazes her how he just seems to instinctively know everything about her, how her mind works, what her body needs. She should feel frightened by it but she really doesn't. She feels perfectly safe and strangely content.  
  
"Jesus, Kate," he murmurs evocatively, gazing down at her and tracing her figure with his eyes: "do you have any idea what it does to me… to see you like this?" He gulps and his voice sounds strangled when he adds: "To see you laid out for me all flushed and willing?"  
  
Her whole body writhes under his appreciative gaze, her skin tingling with the fire of his words. She's never felt so wanted, so cherished and sexy. It makes her want to please him all the more. It makes her want him more.  
  
She has no idea how he has held out this long. The advantage of an older man, she supposes – that, and they already made love twice last night. But still, he's been hard since they were in the shower. She's already come once and she's still aching for it, for him, filling her up.  
  
"Spread your legs," he rumbles and watches her legs part to reveal her rosy center. He moves over her again, kneeling between her parted legs, hands braced against the bed, hovering over her prone body. "Tell me you want it," he mutters lowly, his tone desperate and searching.  
  
"I want it," she responds immediately, her breathing heavy.  
  
She reaches back blindly with one hand to find his cheek and draw his mouth to hers. Gibbs follows, his face lowering and his mouth puffing against hers. The angle is awkward, but her message is clear.  
  
She kisses him once, soft: "I want you." She kisses him, again, warm: "I trust you." She kisses him a third time and he kisses her back, deep and loving: "I love you," she pants, when they break.  
  
She can feel his gaze studying her through the blindfold. It's such an easy admission to make with her eyes covered and sightless. She feels strangely relieved and comfortable with it, despite not being able to witness his reaction.  
  
She holds her breath and senses that he is doing the same. An extra flush paints her cheeks and her lips curve up in a pleased smile. She loves him so much. She never even knew how much until the last few days opened the floodgates on her emotions. Being with him in this way is her every dream come true. And, if he lets her, she'll love him even more with every passing day.  
  
Gibbs' head falls onto the sheet by her face as he lets out a long breath. She leans in and kisses his cheek lightly, as his whole body seems to sag on top of her. She loves the feeling, even as she struggles for breath. For once, she feels like the stronger one of the two of them.  
  
"I love you, Gibbs," she whispers again, suddenly struck with the intensity of saying the words aloud. Her eyes prick tearfully beneath the silk and her throat burns with truth.  
  
His hand strokes her hair softly and he leans in to kiss her nose. "Kate. I'll take you anywhere you want to go," he rumbles quietly.  
  
"So, take me," she whispers gently. Heaven awaits them.  
  
She feels him rise up over her again, carefully adjusting her hips on the pillow. She stretches out, her stomach fluttering with anticipation. His hands tenderly smooth over her ass a few times, before he lines himself up at her entrance and presses inside.  
  
The sensation is thrilling and satisfying. Her walls cringe a little from being stretched so deliciously by him on two other occasions. She is already getting used to having him fill her body. She's not sure, however, that she'll ever get used to the intense emotion that accompanies his deliberate invasion.  
  
He moves slowly, pulling out and pushing back in deeper every time. He groans loudly as he works himself into her and she knows that, like last night, he is watching as he sinks inside, bit by aching bit.  
  
She arches back to meet him a little, making the angle easier. Mostly, though, she is content to let him set the pace. It is exquisitely erotic just to lie, blind and supine, and let him make love to her exactly the way he wants to.  
  
Finally, he is sheathed within her, her walls gripping him fiercely as he pulses hotly against their captivity. He gasps and lowers himself carefully onto her back once more, sucking on her shoulder with his teeth. He suckles his way all the way up her shoulder then starts down her arm as he pulls back his hips and begins to move.  
  
His whole body rubs over hers, igniting a sweaty, heady fire. She can feel his chest hair on her back as his legs urge hers to open wider. As she complies, one hand slips under to find her breast again, just cupping her gently and randomly pinching her nipple between his fingers.  
  
"Aw, Katie," he puffs, between moans: "This is heaven… this is heaven… Can't believe…" he kisses her shoulder and squeezes her breast: "can't believe it can be…this _good_ . So good, baby…. You feel…like heaven..."  
  
His moans are low and constant in her ear and she can hear from their tenor just how much he is enjoying this, having her under his conquest, entirely eager and open. He speeds up a little, clutching her as his hips bump against her more urgently.  
  
"How could I not know?" he murmurs in her ear, his tone rough and distant.  
  
"Know what?" she answers breathily from beneath his bulk.  
  
He cries out through grit teeth and then answers: "That you… you love me… I -- didn't know," he pants, shaking his head and straining against their mutual pleasure. "I didn't know…" he continues, tucking his hot face into the crook of her neck: "that this was possible. I didn't know that I," he laughs hoarsely: "love you too…. But I do." He gathers her against him, tight and possessive: "I do, my baby…. Love you so much. So much, Katie, it hurts--"  
  
"Not any more," she whispers, turning her head to kiss him wherever she can.  
  
"How could I…?" he puffs confusedly, kissing the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Doesn't matter now," she soothes, nipping at his jaw: "We're here now, making love."  
  
"Yeah," he sighs and pumps into her more eagerly: "Yeah, it feels amazing. Gonna make love to you every chance I get," he growls, nuzzling her neck: "Every chance…"  
  
She smiles as he kisses her ear, his hips pausing for a second. He lifts up onto his hands, rising above her and beginning a new rhythm. His pelvis smacks her ass with each impact, driving his gorgeous cock deep into her aching cunt. It feels unbelievably good and she gushes with extra wetness, moaning into the sheets.  
  
"This is so good!" he grunts, pounding her softness into sublime submission: "Kate, gonna come…"  
  
He thrusts between her legs tirelessly, ripping her apart with his passion. The stimulation in her wet depths is perfect and wonderful. She could be fucked like this for hours and never come. But she senses the urgency in his body, moving behind her. She can feel him expanding in her tunnel as she gradually tightens around him and she can hear his breath being forced from his body with every thrust.  
  
"Baby," he groans: "Bring yourself off for me. I can't…."  
  
His voice fades. She slips a hand down, under her body. She's never felt herself so slippery and swollen. She gathers extra moisture from her opening, briefly feeling his enormous prick plunging into her, then she moves up and starts circling her clit.  
  
The lightest touch sends fireworks crackling up her nerve endings. She jolts and gasps. She's so sensitive from all his teasing that she didn't realize how close she was.  
  
"Aw, yeah," Gibbs moans: "I can feel you squeezing me."  
  
She sets up a slow rhythm, swiping her clit and teasing herself with the slow, sweet build to her climax. The weightless, clinching sensation rushes through her and her body arches on the white sheets, her mouth wide open.  
  
There is nothing like the feel of him plunging into her. She's tried to imagine it countless times, tried to simulate it with fantasies and her fingers buried in her folds. But nothing could ever have compared to his stiff hardness embedded within her and nailing her to the mattress with such passionate force.  
  
She cries out in extreme ecstasy and chants for more. Stars explode behind her blindfold and for a second, she looses all awareness. There is no up, no down, no time, no space. There is only blackness – and him hard between her legs. She clamps down on him, bucking against her hand as her fingers fly over her clit, and impaling herself on his long shaft.  
  
He never stops fucking her, hard and deep and fast and she's still coming when, an instant later, Gibbs bellows loud enough to topple the entire building. His body buckles above her and he begins washing her with his warm seed, coming in quick, strong pulses.  
  
Together, they moan and convulse, climaxing in an endless, simultaneous orgasm.  
  
Then, swiftly, she plummets. He collapses on her back, sweaty and hot, and she is grounded by his mass. Her heart pounds in her chest. Her blood rushes through her veins. Her body feels weightless and weak.  
  
That was the most incredible orgasm she's ever experienced. She's never come with another person before. It's intense, deeply intimate, strangely overwhelming.  
  
She feels incredible. She feels high. She feels in love.  
  
They both pant raggedly in the still, sunny room. After a while, his heaviness becomes too much and Gibbs rolls off her, falling onto his back at her side. She curls up into his sticky body, kicking the pillow under her hips off the edge of the bed.  
  
"Gibbs…?" she slurs blissfully, slipping the blindfold off her face.  
  
"Hmm?" he hums, eyes closed. He wraps an arm around her and his fingertips start doodling on the damp skin of her back.  
  
"I've always wanted to know…" she muses, resting her chin on his chest and peering up at him.  
  
"What?" he rumbles, smiling down at her with the expression of an intensely satisfied man.  
  
She furrows her brow slightly and inquires: "Well, how _did_ you know about my tattoo?"  
  
Gibbs leers at her lazily and runs his eyes over her body with a frankly proprietary air. She slips one leg over his and weaves her fingers into the mat of his curly chest hair.  
  
He leans down to kiss her nose. "I'll never tell," he mutters finally.  
  
Her mouth quirks into an irked smirk and she throws the black stocking at his face. He slings it away, dragging her on top of him and, before she can call him any names, he claims her mouth with a deep, lazy kiss.

 

* * *

  
Gibbs can't believe his own luck. He can't believe how quickly a man's life can change.  
  
On Friday night, he slow-danced with a sad and drunk colleague, and went home alone to his empty bed where he'd dreamt only of her for too many lonely nights to recall. On Sunday evening, he sits between the legs of his beautiful new lover, gazing out at the calm waves as a cool breeze blows and the first stars appear in the twilit sky.  
  
There really should have been some sort of warning, he muses as he strokes her knee; some sort of sign that everything was about to cave in around them. It took him completely by surprise – but then, Kate Todd always had. She's been a shock to his universe from the very beginning.  
  
Maybe, he thinks, they had both lived with the accumulated desire and disappointment for so long that they'd finally and simply reached an inevitable breaking point. All they'd needed was the slightest reason to submit. And Kate's birthday provided that reason -- an excuse to give and receive, to be close, to be honest.  
  
He woke up this morning with his arms full of Katie, overflowing with woman. His chest swelled just thinking about it. He'd dreamt of it. But nothing could ever have prepared him for how sweet the reality could actually be.  
  
She was just there, all soft and mussed and radiant and stunning. Everything about her took his breath away. For a long time, he just lay with her, in her bed, the sheets reeking of man and woman united, her body curled contently against his as his eyes roved over her face and form, captivated, still curious and deeply fond.  
  
As the sun rose higher through the windows and the world began to revolve again, he turned his eyes on their surroundings, noting the chaotic mess of her bedroom, the clothes on the floor, the ajar wardrobe, the open tub of cream and the uncapped perfume bottle on her bureau.  
  
It was all very fascinating, this peek into the secret world of Kate Todd.  
  
With a soft kiss on her forehead, he slipped out of bed to investigate a little more. His muscles ached as he headed down the hall to the kitchen. After poking around a little, he managed to locate mugs and start some coffee. While it began to percolate, he wandered about quietly, looking at the photos in her living room.  
  
On the mantle above the small fireplace, there were various pictures of her family; a portrait of her parents, her sister with her hubby and new baby, and Kate with what looked like a grandmother. He picked up an older image, laughing under his breath.  
  
It showed a young Kate, about twelve years old, in a football jersey much too big for her, her long, dark hair in a messy ponytail. She was sandwiched between three big boys with unruly dark hair and all of them were covered in mud, wearing enormous, mischievous grins.  
  
Kate, with the ball tucked under arm, had the same glimmer of spirit in her eyes, the same outrageous courage in her face that he'd first felt so bewitched by. She had probably been born brave, he thought to himself.  
  
On a bookshelf opposite the mantle, above a picture of Kate with the President, was one of him and her, which he'd never seen before. He smirked, liking the fact that he ranked above the leader of the free world – at least in Kate's eyes.  
  
The photo could've been taken at any one of countless crime scenes that they'd visited in the past few years. But he had a feeling it was a fairly recent shot – the level of comfort that was plainly obvious between them hinted at a long association.  
  
They were both wearing NCIS issue jackets and caps. He had his hands on his hips and his head bent towards her as he spoke to her. Kate had a hand on the brim of her hat, and a slight smile on her lips as she held his gaze.  
  
It seemed inconceivable to him that she'd been under his nose all this time. It seemed extraordinary that he'd lived so much of his life without her in it. He could never have known that meeting her would change him so dramatically, and that his life's existence up until then was somehow less, somehow vaguely inadequate.  
  
But, staring at the photo of them, he'd suddenly felt complete, satisfied -- at peace. And, soon, he wanted to place a similar photo on his own mantle. A pure and intimate image of him with this woman, to show the world and remind himself of his own luck. But he wanted that professional guise gone and he wanted her smile to be unimpeded.  
  
Still deep in thought, he'd headed for the shower, feeling unwashed and uncouth in her orderly living room. But he hadn't been standing under the spray long, still enjoying the presence of Kate all around him, when he felt her slip inside the bathroom.  
  
She joined him in the narrow cubicle and they showered together. He washed her precious skin and then hauled his wet, little nymph back to bed to seduce her as thoroughly as he had been seduced by her the night before.  
  
Making love with Kate was about as beautiful experience as he's ever had in this world. He's never waited so long for a woman. He's never wanted someone so long and so much. And, as such, he's never known someone as deeply and completely as he knows Kate.  
  
  
To discover this other side of the woman he's known professionally for years was thrilling and fascinating and touching. They were both, in turn, both predator and prey. It was a wonderful, decadent, momentous game.  
  
He never imagined she'd be so….. _so sexy_ . She was alternately, a sex kitten, a young girl, a femme fatale and a glorious goddess. He's not sure which he loves most.  
  
He had forgotten what an intense experience it was to be in bed with someone he truly cared about. He'd forgotten how intimate it was to say that you loved someone while joined with them bodily. He hadn't felt that connection with another in a long, long time. When Kate whispered that she loved him, an arrow had pierced his heart – and he knows he may never recover from the wound.  
  
It had been her idea to take the _May December_ out again. They'd been sitting at the kitchen table, eating a very late breakfast, and she used the eyes on him – those cute, pleading eyes he was such a victim of. She'd added the voice, for equal measure, that coaxing, feminine tone she knew he had no choice but to fall for.  
  
He made her convince him, just for fun. And she did – she'd slithered onto his lap and kissed him so sweet, then whispered that she wanted to make love to him on the deck of a boat in the middle of the ocean.  
  
She had to know that he couldn't refuse her. She had to know that what she was suggesting was his number one fantasy of all time -- with her as the obvious star. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more. He couldn't conceive of anything more sexy.  
  
The boat was still locked up in his garage, so they left within an hour to retrieve her and head for the coast. He needs to return her today but he's sure it won't be a problem if they're a little late.  
  
It's been another beautiful day, full of free-flowing kisses and promising touches and heated whispers. He's been watching his Kate wander around in little white shorts and a bikini top all day. He's watched her slather her sweet skin with sun lotion and peer at him from under the brim of an enormous sun hat. He got to wear the captain's hat today.  
  
Neither of them have broached the subject of what will happen the next day at work when they must revert to their usual roles and he becomes her boss again. To be honest, he's not that worried. Maybe he should be, with his previous experience mixing professional and personal. Or maybe, they will be just fine, taking things one day at a time, a step at a time, together.  
  
He knows the subject is on Kate's mind as well, as she sits behind him, snuggled in close. They are seated on the cabin, Kate perched a little higher than him on the skylight, her legs spread either side of his body, her arms loosely draped about his shoulders and her chin nestled against his temple. He leans back into her soft body, his head on her shoulder, his hands on her knees.  
  
The boat is anchored in place, bobbing gently on the waves. And the last of the day is disappearing before their eyes as they sit in silence, gazing out over the bow, huddled against the cooling sea air.  
  
"I wish," she murmurs after a long hush: "we could just keep on sailing." She kisses his brow and sighs: "Right into the sunset," she mutters distantly.  
  
He watches the far horizon where the golden sky meets the sapphire sea. "We can," he replies quietly, his hand keeping up the leisurely stroking of her left knee: "One day."  
  
Kate smiles against his hair. "When?…" she hums, in an indulgent tone. She doesn't think he's serious.  
  
"When I finish my boat," he nods, his voice lazy and pensive: "She'll be comfortable enough for two. We can take her on a trip for her maiden voyage."  
  
Kate pokes her head over his shoulder to look at his face: "Are you serious?" she asks skeptically.  
  
He turns his head to look at her incredulous face. "I'm always serious when I talk about boats," he tells her, deadpan.  
  
Kate shakes her head slightly and smiles at him, her eyes gleaming with mirth. "So…" she murmurs dreamily, her arms winding around his neck a little tighter: "where will you take me?"  
  
He slips one hand up her bent leg, from her knee to her upper thigh, his fingers brushing under the hem of her cute little shorts. His other hand captures one of hers, interlocking their fingers and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.  
  
Kate leans closer to him, biting her lip and searching his eyes. He smiles up at her as the wind blows her hair over her face for a moment. She flicks it out of the way and raises her eyebrows expectantly.  
  
"Well, maybe, I can find some secluded little island…" he muses, his eyes roving warmly over her sun-kissed face: "where you can throw me down on the sand and seduce me all over again."  
  
"Or vice versa," Kate responds, swiftly, tipping her head at him: " _You_ could throw _me_ down and seduce _me_ again," she suggests impishly.  
  
He gives her hand another kiss and grins: "Can't we do both?"  
  
She giggles, low and throaty, her nose nuzzling behind his ear, her eyelashes brushing his cheek. Her free hand skims through his hair absently as she turns back to the view, her face lifted into the breeze.  
  
"How long will it take us to complete your boat?" she asks lightly.  
  
The corners of his mouth turn up. He caught that ‘we' – however deliberate or unconscious it was. He likes it. He likes the assumption it entails. He likes the intimacy it suggests.  
  
And he especially likes the image of his new lover, his sweet seductress, his longtime dream girl in his basement, her little hands working on his boat, her soft body wrapped up in one of his over-sized shirts. Talk about fantasy becoming reality. He's always wanted to make love to her under his boat, against his boat, in his boat. He's pretty sure Kate won't have any objections.  
  
"Hm, let's see…" he sighs, slipping one hand behind her neck and pulling her mouth down to his.  
  
He kisses her, deep and slow, their tongues rolling around in each other's mouths. He feels her smile against his lips and melt into his back. Her fingers start to work on his shirt buttons as she shifts closer to him from behind. Pulling back a little, he returns her smile, his eyes intent on hers.  
  
"Why don't we aim for your Thirty-first…?" he concludes softly.  
  
Her smile increases. She nods eagerly, slips a hand into his shirt and kisses him again. He moves up, turning around with his open mouth still pinned to hers and pressing her onto her back on the cool deck. His warm flesh covers hers and she embraces him as their bodies tangle intimately once more under the deep blue, starlit sky.  
  
_END._

Find the rest of my Kibbs fic [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/812100/Mindy35)


End file.
